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Purchased by the Hammill Missionary Fund. 

BV 3625 .N82 M33 1864 
Goodwin, Harvey, 1818-1891 
Memoir of Bishop Mackenzie* 









" I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, avd ivho 
will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me!" — Isaiah vi. 8. 





The profits of the sale of this V/orh are given to ike Funds of 
the Universities' Mission to Central Africa. 






My Lord, 

"When the request was made to me by 
the family of the late Bishop Mackenzie, that I 
would imdertake to write a Memoir of his Life, 
the request was accompanied by the expres- 
sion of two wishes. 

The first was, that the profits of the sale of 
the book should be devoted to the furtherance 
of that cause, in the attempt to advance which 
the Bishop died. Concerning this 1 could have 
no hesitation. 

The second was, that the book should be 
dedicated to yourself To this also I gladly 
acceded; and it was highly gratifying to me, 



that, in reply to my letter asking permission to 
dedicate the book as the family desired, you not 
only gave your consent, but assured me that 
you should deem it an honour to have your 
name associated with that of Bishop Mackenzie. 

I now present to your Lordship the Memoir, 
upon which during the past year I have been 
eno'aged. The Bishop's family, and some of 
his friends, have freely placed in my hands his 
more private letters, and other materials from 
which the story of his life could be gathered, 
leaving the use of the documents entirely to 
my discretion. The plan which I have adojDted 
has been to make the Bishop, as far as possible, 
his own biographer. I have printed nearly one 
hundred of his letters wholly or in part, and I 
trust that they will help to convey to the minds 
of those who read this book an impression of 
the exceeding gentleness, cheerfulness, and sim- 
phcity, coupled with manliness, strength of 
purpose, and unwavering faith, which belonged 
to our departed friend and brother. 

My Lord, I once took occasion, as we walked 
together into Ely Cathedral, to say to you, that 
although I had known Mackenzie intimately for 
a long time, and had been with him under a 


variety of circumstances, I had never seen a 
cloud on his brow, and had never heard him say 
anything which I could suppose he would wish 
to recall. I did not exaggerate when I so 
spoke, nor, indeed, could I easily give what 
would seem to me to be an exaggerated view of 
the excellence and sweetness of his character : 
but in this memoir I have refrained as much as 
possible from dwelling on my own opinion of his 
goodness : I have endeavoured rather to ex- 
hibit a simple picture of his hfe, and then have 
wished the reader to form an opinion for him- 

It has been a melancholy pleasure to be per- 
mitted to pay this tribute to the memory of our 
deceased friend. The pleasure will be enhanced, 
if I can venture to think that through this me- 
moir Bishop Mackenzie can yet speak, and in- 
fuse into some of us that spirit of faith and love, 
which in so conspicuous a degree animated him. 
No one would have shrunk more than himself 
from the notion of a book being published, 
which should be to him a mere laudatory epi- 
taph ; but if the memoir of his life should tend, 
by God's grace, to incite Christians to dare and 
to do for Christ's sake, then the publication of 


it is a tribute which he would have at least 
excused, because it would have been regarded 
by him as the means of carrying out after his 
decease the dearest wish of his heart. 

I am, my Lord, 
Your Lordship's obedient Servant, 


The Deanery, Ely, 

Christmas, 1863. 


In this Volume the name of the African tribe 
with which Bishop Mackenzie was chiefly asso- 
ciated has been printed Mang-anja, in order 
to guard against the pronunciation Man-ganja ; 
the name is pronounced as if the word hang 
were followed by the word and. 

The river Shire, which in some works is 
printed with an accent upon the final e, is to be 
pronounced as if it were written Shirry, or 
nearly so. 

The views of Mount Zomba, the Missionary 
settlement at Magomero, and Lake Shirwa, 
are taken fi'om sketches made by Dr Meller. 


Portrait to face the Title-page. 

Map of Part of Diocese of Natal, opposite jiage 109. 

Mount Zomba, opposite page 317. 

Map of Shire, opposite page 318. 

Magomero, opposite page 331. 

Lake Sliirwa, opposite page 355. 

Map of Eastern Coast of Africa at the end of the Volume. 




Boyhood Am> School-Days 1 

College Life — Undergraduate .11 

College Life — Holy Orders 30 

First Thoughts of Mission-Work 62 


Leaves Cambridge for Natal 82 

Residence in Natal. Durban 109 




Residence m Natal. Umhlali 154 

Mission to Central Africa 204 

Consecration at Cape Town ...... 253 

From Cape Town to the Shire 281 

Settlement at Magomero 318 

Last Days and Death 368 

Conclusion 431 



Charles Frederick Mackenzie was bom at Harcus 
Cottage, Portmore, Peebleshire, on the 10th day of 
April, 1825, and was baptized by the Right Reverend 
Daniel Sandford, Bishop of Edinburgh. He was the 
youngest of a large family, of whom six brothers and 
five sisters survived at the time of his birth \ 

As a child he exhibited great natural power with 
regard to figures, and thus gave indication of future 
mathematical ability. He appears to have possessed nc 
other mark of great mental superiority. As a child 
also he is said to have exhibited a gentleness of dispo- 

^ The eldest was the late WiUiam Forbes Mackenzie, Esq. of Port- 
more, who was secretary to the Treasury in the Ministry of Lord Derby 
in the year 1852. His name is popularly connected with the law for 
regulating the sale of spirits in Scotland, commonly known as the 
" Forbes Mackenzie Act." 



sition, which was entirely in keeping with that wonder- 
ful sweetness and nobility of character, to which I can 
testify as a friend of his manhood. 

I find it recorded of him, that, when a very little 
boy, he was accustomed to amuse his elder brothers 
with the exhibition of his arithmetical powers. Charlie 
was placed upon a table, and examined by these same 
elder brothers ; hard questions were put to him, which 
he puzzled out in his head by some method of his own, 
and answered correctly, though without being able to 
say how he reached his results. His examiners had 
slate and pencil to help them, but he generally got to 
the end of the sum first, without any such help. Strange 
however to say, when he went to school, and was 
compelled to write his sums upon the prosaic slate, his 
great superiority for a time disappeared, and it was only 
when he reached the higher level of algebra that his 
real mathematical ability made itself manifest. 

He lost his father when only five years old, and the 
education of himself and of several of the younger chil- 
dren devolved to a considerable extent upon the eldest 
sister. As this sister is gone to her rest, and as to her 
wise superintendence much of the subsequent excel- 
lence of Bishop Mackenzie's character appears, under 
God, to have been due, it may be right in this place to 
allow him to express his own feelings. Writing from 
Livei-pool, on the eve of his first departure for Africa, 
he says to this sister : " I cannot go, as we are to do to- 
morrow, without sending you a line to say that my 
regard and affection for you are deepened, instead of 
being lessened, by this separation. I feel so strongly 


that my aptitude for what is good, has been, under 
God, so entirely due to your judicious training of me, 
that I cannot say how much I am indebted to you. 

Dear ■ ," he proceeds, " let us hold on in the right 

way. Let us press toward the mark of our high calling 
in Christ Jesus. In due season we shall reap if we faint 
not. That God may bless you and yours is my earnest 
hope, and I would fain have it my constant prayer." 

On the death of the father in 1830 the family re- 
moved to Edinburgh, and here the education of the 
boy Charles was carried on regularly till 1840 ; first in 
a private school, and then at the Academy. His talents 
at this period, as before intimated, do not appear to 
have been in an extraordinary degree conspicuous; that 
which chiefly distinguished him was a singular guile- 
lessness, great simplicity of character, and most scrupu- 
lous conscientiousness. Some persons might have said 
that he was not manly enough, too girl-like, too soft, too 
ready to allow his tears to flow on a slight provocation; 
but there was nevertheless the real manliness, which is 
ever considerate of the feelings of others, and which 
shrinks from everything mean and unworthy. On one 
occasion Charles and his companions were competing 
for a prize ; the prize composition was an essay on some 
school-subject, and it was a question whether books of 
reference might or might not be used; the other boys 
used them freely, but Charles doubted, and abstained ; 
he lost the prize, but the gentleman who gave it, and 
who heard the circumstances under which Charlie's 
essay had been produced, marked his approbation by 
an extra prize. 



I think I shall be pardoned if I introduce here two 
or three short extracts from a journal kept by the sister 
of whom mention has been already made, as they will 
not only throw a light upon the Bishop's boyish days, 
but also shew that even then this keensighted sister 
saw the shadow of her brother's future superiority. 

" G (a brother older than Charles by six years) 

came with me to do some arithmetic, and seems sin- 
cerely anxious to improve, but was obliged to defer a 
satisfactory solution of his difficulties till Charlie should 
come home. G.'s affectionate respect for Charlie's ta- 
lents and character is really beautiful, and often strikes 
me. When I first proposed a few days ago to call in 
Charlie's assistance at the arithmetic, and gently ex- 
pressed a hope that G would not have any un- 
comfortable feehng about it, he exclaimed. Oh dear, I 
would not scorn to learn anything of Charlie." 

Again : " Charlie is much occupied about learning 
Hebrew. I consulted Bishop Walker on his behalf: 
he has taken a desire to learn it systematically, and 
has been for nine months devoting a portion of his 
playhours to it ; he is anxious to have a grammar, and 
to do the thing methodically. His reasons were very 
sensible : ' At present grammars are no drudgery to 
me, on the contrary I should feel it rather an amuse- 
ment, and could easily give half an hour in the even- 
ing to it. If I were to wait until I am obliged to 
learn it, the taste for grammars may perhaps have 
worn off.'" 

I apprehend that in this boyish desire to learn 
Hebrew Ave may trace, not the mere love of language, 


which did not at all belong to his mind, but the consci- 
entious wish to fit himself for the Ministry, to which he 
looked forward as his calling from a very early period. 

Again : " His selection of books to take to the 
Highlands is what one would not expect a boy to 
choose for the holydays : Euclid : his prize (a book on 
science) : Mental Improvement : Bible : Prayer-book : 
an elementary book of science which he has studied 

long ago and wishes to revise He is most keen 

about Euchd, and it is a characteristic trait of him, 
that after returning from the Exhibition (receiving his 
prize and aiding in applauding others who received 
theirs), he quietly told his news, and then sat down to 
study EucHd." 

Here is a peep at another side of his mind. 

"He is rather defective in imagination. In sce- 
nery he requires to be urged and reminded to admire 
the beauties of nature, and from want of habit lets 
them pass unobserved, f His turn of opinion is calcu- 
lating, and naturally his observation is directed only 
to subjects giving food for such reflections. Fine moun- 
tain views he admires when pointed out, but they do 
not of themselves strike him. He himself told me in 
the most simple naive manner, 'Only think of my 
stupidity ; when I went to the top of one of the high 
hills near Inverie, I quite forgot to look at the view 
which I went on purpose to see ; but I just sat dowTi 
a little and ate my cake, and came down again.'" 

Speaking of his rapid improvement at school, the 
sister says : 

"Certainly his mind is wonderfully acute, and he 


has the happy faculty of conveying information with 
the same clearness as it has to his own mind.... His 
remarkable modesty of disposition deceives those who 
do not know him intimately.... His ever active mind 
never seems to tire, but even when his body is weary, 

he is still equally keen to work. When S 1 is not 

disposed to work longer, he goes to A , who is 

anxious to improve in arithmetic ; if she fail him he 

goes to work problems on the globes with ; yet 

there is a total absence of pretension and a perfect 

One more extract from this journal. 

" Charlie's eyes so bad ; confined to bed. S sat 

with him in the forenoon, working problems in algebra, 
&c. Charlie's mind fully occupied in assisting in their 
solution, and not a murmur because his blind condition 
prevented his having the power of writing them or 
drawing the figures. At present these problems are 
the greatest source of interest that he has." 

These notices of the Bishop's boyhood, it will be 
observed, are not ex post facto : they are memoranda 
made at the time, and they agree admirably well with 
the character developed in later years, as known to 
myself and others : the same gentleness, the same sim- 
plicity, and the same activity of mind, shewing its real 
superiority, in boyhood as in manhood, chiefly in the 
direction of abstract mathematical reasoning. 

In 1840 Charles was sent to the Grange School near 
Sunderland, then under Dr Cowan. Here his mathe- 

* A sailor brother, seven years older than himself, lost at sea 
in 1842. 


matlcal tastes and powers appear to have been still 
further developed, and it became more evident that 
Greek and Latin were not the subjects in which he was 
most capable of obtaining University distinction. It 
was finally determined that he should proceed to Cam- 
bridsre. I have before me several letters written home 
during this school period, but they contain nothing 
sufficiently striking or characteristic to persuade me to 
pause upon them. Neither have I been able to re- 
cover many stories of his school-days ; but I have met 
with one which appears to me sufficiently characteristic 
to be worthy of a place in this memoir : of its general 
truth I have no doubt, though I have endeavoured in 
vain to obtain a version, for the accuracy of which 
in all particulars I can vouch. The story is as fol- 
lows : — A smaller boy having on one occasion offended 
Mackenzie, and committed some act of aggression for 
which according to the usual code of schoolboy law he 
deserved " a licking," Mackenzie quietly took the boy 
aside and remonstrated with him, pointed out to him 
how much in the wrong he had been, and by his gentle 
behaviour at length moved the offender to tears. 

Dr Dawson Turner, now head-master of the Royal 
Institution School at Liverpool, but a master at the 
Grange School in Bishop Mackenzie's school-days has 
favoured me with a letter, from which I will give an 
extract. After remarking that Mackenzie's talent was 
almost wholly mathematical, and that he never could 
have been made a very good scholar, Dr Turner adds, 
" In divinity, with me, Mackenzie always did very well, 
and gave promise of future ability. I remember him 


most as a very pleasant, good tempered, jolly sort of 
boy, very fond of athletic exercises, and one of the best 
oars in the two four-oars I got up and taught the 
fellows to row in, during my mastership at the Grange. 
He was a very good foot-ball player too. As I did not 
myself reside in the school-house, I saw but little of 
him except in school-hours and in the play-ground ; but 
this much I well remember, that he was one of the 
very few, out of the very many with whom I have 
worked my hardest and best, that ever shewed any 
gratitude for the pains taken with them, and took the 
trouble of keeping up a kindly acquaintance in after 
years with their former schoolmaster. Some time after 
I had left the Grange School, Mackenzie, with one or 
two other old pupils of mine at Cambridge, sent me a 
present of books, and I have still a large and handsome 
knife that he gave me on getting his scholarship." 

I conclude this chapter with a reminiscence which 
has been kindly furnished by the Rev. J. Erskine 
Clarke, vicar of St Michael's, Derby, and a contempo- 
rary of Bishop Mackenzie at the Grange School. It 
will be observed that there is a little discrepancy be- 
tween the recollections of Dr Turner and Mr Clarke 
on the subject of athletic exercises ; but I give them as 
they have come into my hands, observing that the 
discrepancy is apparent rather than real. 

" I remember well Charles Mackenzie at the Grange 
School, Bishopwearmouth. He was not however a hero 
among school-boys, though he afterwards proved himself 
so true a hero among men. He lacked that dash and 
self-assertion which are requisite to give a boy a leading 


place amongst his fellows. Moreover, Mackenzie was no 
cricketer ; nor indeed much given to athletic exercise at 

. " My own most vivid remembrance of him is that of 
seeing him walking up and down by a hedgeside in a 
remote part of the playground with his arm over the 
shoulder of his cousin John Forbes, and often with some 
younger lad walking on the other side of him listening 
to their talk. 

"At the same time when he did join in any games, 
he did so with a right goodwill. I can recall him to 
my mind making vigorous rushes at foot-ball, or work- 
ing hard in the Fives Court, and he was always one of 
every party of bathers. 

"At lessons he was always studious and attentive, 
though his diffidence and shyness prevented his doing 
himself full justice in the class. He was one of the 
editors of a school-magazine, but the two volumes of it 
contain only a few lines by himself, and they are of a 
mathematical character. 

"The example that he set during his stay at the 
Grange was thoroughly good. I never remember hear- 
ing him found fault with, and (what could not be said of 
many of his contemporaries) I cannot remember his 
doing anything which if known would have deserved 
rebuke. I have no doubt that Mackenzie's society in- 
fluenced to their highest good those boys who were 
much with him, and I believe that even the most 
graceless lads, who would have spoken of him as rather 
soft and very slow, would have acknowledged and in 
their hearts have honoured his gentle goodness and his 


unfailing kindliness of temper, always ready with a' 
smile to make his own pleasure give way to that of 
others; — the germ of that self-sacrificing love which 
afterwards deprived the Church Militant of one of the 
most faithful of her soldiers, and gave to Africa another 
Martyr's grave." 


In the year 1844 Mackenzie removed from the Grange 
School, and came into residence as a Pensioner of 
S. John's College, Cambridge, in October. S. John's 
has, as all Cambridge men know, a high reputation for 
mathematical vigour, and was selected on this account 
as Mackenzie's College. He found however, when he 
came into actual residence and was made acquainted 
with the rules of his College, that as a Scotchman 
he would labour under great disadvantages, and would 
in fact be ineligible to a fellowship^ ; he consequently 
made up his mind to " migrate " to Caius College, which 
he did in the Easter term of 1845. 

I was myself a fellow of Caius College, and hold- 
ins: office as Mathematical Lecturer, at the time of 
Mackenzie's migration. Pumour told us that a very 
clever Johnian had come amongst us, and there was I 
think a little jealousy excited by the news : the College 

^ This restriction is now removed. The Cambridge Calendar in- 
forms us that "the Fellowships and Scholarships are open to all British 
subjects without any restriction or appropriation." 


was itself stocked with very promising freshmen, as was 
demonstrated by the final result of the Senate House 
Examination in 1848, and there was a natural tendency 
to look with dissatisfaction upon the arrival of a man 
from another College, whose accession was understood 
to be due to the fact that Scotch blood excluded him 
from the emoluments of S. John's. This circumstance 
would hardly be worth recording, except for the sake 
of appending this remark, that if any jealousy of the 
new comer did exist it rapidly vanished under the 
influence of his genial presence. Mackenzie soon be- 
came a favourite in the CoUege, as he well deserved 
to be. 

In speaking of my own personal knowledge of 
Mackenzie I may here state by the way, that going 
out of residence in the summer of 1845 I had little 
opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with 
him as a member of the College. I examined him 
at the end of his first year, and remember well the 
decided superiority which he evinced in his treatment 
of a problem paper, which it fell to my lot to set ; but 
owing to circumstances, which it is not necessary here 
to explain, I saw little or nothing of him again until 
the period of his B. A. degree. 

The story of Mackenzie's undergraduate life cannot 
therefore be given from personal recollection ; but in 
truth the most important portion of it will be told 
by himself; he was in the habit of writing with great 
openness to his sisters, especially to the eldest sister, 
spoken of in the preceding chapter, and from some of 
his own letters the reader will be able to gather more 


surely than from any other source an account of his 
inner life and feelings. The reader will also see how 
early and how earnestly he looked forward to the sacred 
ofl&ce to which he had devoted himself, and how anxious 
he was to lose no time in preparing himself for it. 


{To his Eldest Sister.) 
My dearest , 

Many thanks for your kind and most acceptable 
letter. After I bad sent my letter to tbe post, I began to 
wonder what you would tliink of it, and half to wish to 
have it back again. Soon after I left borne to go to Grange 
I began to think that I must learn to rest on One higher, 
and more constantly pi-esent, than any one on this earth 
could be, for sympathy and assistance in the struggle of 
life : and this led me to what I now think an error, try- 
ing to avoid to a certain extent any communication, espe- 
cially correspondence, on religious subjects. For I don't 
know whether I am of a more sympathetic nature than 
other people, but I do think that as long as I am in the 
body I must be influenced very much for good or ill by 
intercourse with others ; and why should I shut all the 
avenues of the former only to give the full advantage of the 
influence to the other 1 

As to books, I have taken to Leighton again, in con- 
sequence of the high praise which a friend gave him the 
other day, and I like him quite as well as ever. Also I 
have asked the loan of Manning's sermons. 

* -X- * * * 

My mathematical studies are getting on pretty fairly 
now, though not quite perfectly. The fact is, I sometimes 
think I have lost that engrossing interest in the subject 
which I once felt. But then, again, I am not sure that it 
may not be as well that this should be so : for other things 


of greater importance will soon become my daily business, 
and it might have distracted me. 

And now to come to the next subject of your letter. 
* * * * * 

[His sister had recommended him to make application 

to a clergyman to allow him to assist in pastoral work : and 

he accordingly made application to a Fellow of the College, 

the Rev. W. B. Hopkins, now Vicar of Wisbech, who then 

held a curacy in Cambridge.] 


He at once said, " Oh you wish to go among the poor, 
do youl then I think I can give you a little work to do;" 
and he went on to describe a set of little houses in the 
suburbs \ where a number of old women live, who are sup- 
ported by a benefit society, and who are a long way from 
their parish-church; and when I afterwards said that my 
idea was to go with some Clergyman, he oflfered to let me 
go with him some day. So I thankfully accepted his offer, 
though it had never occurred to me to ask him. 

This morning he told me to come to him at eleven, and 
we went to see a woman who had a very bad cough, and 
had been in bed for a year. When we came out again, I 
had quite made up my mind that it was not a mere accident 
that I had asked his advice on the point. He was so kind 
and shewed me a book giving practical directions on the 
subject of pastoral \'isitation, and promised to give me a 
copy. Altogether I must bless God, and thank you for the 
suggestion of what will I am sure by His aid be a most use- 
ful and instructive and corrective exercise; and by Hopkins' 
account of the jwor old women (about whom, however, he is 
to make more particular enquiry), if I go once or twice in 
a week and read to them, it will be giving them what they 

have no means of getting at present. 

* * * * * 

* The Victoria Asylum. The description of the Asylum, given in 
the letter, is not quite accurate. 


This plan for the visitation of the aged inmates of 
the Victoria Asylum was carried out with the consent 
of the clergyman of the parish, and was a source of great 
comfort to the old people and great satisfaction to Mac- 
kenzie himself The following is his own modest account 
of his early labours. 


{To the same.) 
My dearest , 

What I wanted particularly to speak to you about 
is, the reading at the Asylum to the old people. I fancy 
what you thought of was, my going on a week-day into a 
house, and being quiet and simple ; but somehow Hopkins 
seemed to think that going up on a Sunday afternoon and 
getting them all together, (there are twelve sets of rooms, and 
very often a husband and wife, at any rate more than one 
in a set of rooms, so that the number is about twenty,) 
would be a good plan, and at the time I left it quite in his 
hands, and agreed to whatever he thought best. The con- 
sequence was, that, after having been up once without and 
once with my Bible in my pocket, 1 went up last Sunday at 
two. But it was so new a position, and I could not feel, 
(what I imagine must be a great support in the pulpit,) that 
I was God's appointed servant, only doing my duty in being 
His ambassador. On the contrary, it seemed as if I had 
undertaken it of myself, and I could not fancy that anything 
I could say would be of any use. I had spent some hours 
in preparation before going there, on the two previous days, 
and on the Sunday morning itself; but when I got there, 
though the number was small, in consequence of all that 
could get out to church having gone there for the Sacra- 
ment, yet I got quite red in the face, and after reading the 


chapter (S. John xiv.), I went over it again, throwing in a 
few remarks where 1 could. Then we knelt down, and read 
some of the collects and prayers from the Prayer-book. 
On the whole, I should have felt perfectly miserable, if I 
had not remembered, that lame and wretched as my endea- 
vour had been, it was better than nothing; for I had read 
the words of the Bible and used the prayers of holy men, 
and that if I had not gone, no one else would; so that I 
was not stepping in any one's way. Biit the woi-st of it all 
is, that this week having determined to go on Wednesday 
to see one or two of the old people quietly, when the time 
came I felt disinclined, and went out for a walk instead, 
though my conscience told me that I was robbing God of 
what I had devoted to Him. * * * It was curious 
that I perceived, or fancied T perceived, a change come over 
me soon after, and that night and the next morning I was 
quite out of sorts and disinclined for duty of any kind. 
* * * To-day I cannot have been altogether alone in fix- 
ing my resolution to go up. And when I got there, I went 
to a very nice family, an old man and woman, and two 
young women their daughters : we went through the 32nd 
Psalm; and I came away, not much happier, but thankful 
that I had been spared the pain, which I am sure I should 
have felt, if I had quenched the resolution to good which 

was just formed within me. My dear , pray for me, 

that my faith may be strengthened and my love warmed, 
for that is, I think, mv great want. 

I will ask the reader to note an expression in the 
foregoing letter, which may possibly have escaped him, 
but which he will find to contain the motive principle 
of Mackenzie's conduct in the higher path of duty to 
which he was afterwards called : if I had not gone, no 
one else would : there is not the hint of a feeling that 


in ministering to the poor folks at the Asylum he was 
doing anything extraordinary, or doing his work better 
than others could have done it : on the other hand, he 
is very humble indeed as to the work and the way in 
which it was done, and only takes comfort from the 
thought that if he had not done it, no one else would. 
It will be found hereafter that this same thought, the 
thought that there was work to be done for God and 
apparently no one ready to do it, impelled him to leave 
all and follow Clirist into foreign lands. 

It will be judged, from the anxiety which Mackenzie 
felt to be doing something in the way of humble minis- 
tration, that he kept his eye steadily upon that work 
of the ministry for which he considered himself to be 
in a state of preparation, and towards which he desired 
all his reading and study to converge. At the same 
time he did not forget that University work was his 
principal work while in statu pupillari, and he was 
wise enough to perceive that it is a short-sighted policy 
to neglect the full training of the mental powers 
under the tempting notion of doing God service. I 
suspect however that, like many other earnest young 
men, Mackenzie sometimes felt himself pressed by his 
feelings in this direction : in one of his undergraduate 
letters he writes thus : 

Mr R.'s letter arrived * * * It was quite general, 
rccommeuding strict and full attention to the University 
course. I answered it as well as I coidd, trying to throw in 
a spirit of acquiescence in his principle, that a young man's 
chief object up here should be his degree. This I presume 
is because it is supposed to be the best preparation for his 
profession; for I cannot see how it is else. However, prac- 



tically I am convinced it is : that is, my theoretical doubts, 
if they exist, do not^ I think, interfere with any wish and 
intention to work hard, as in my case at least it is plainly 
a duty, even if it is not the chief one. 

Accordingly lie worked hard ; and when I have 
said this, and have tempered the view of a man given 
chiefly to mathematics by the qualifying thought of 
those old people at the Asylum with their kind reader 
and ministering friend, I have said almost all that is 
necessary of Mackenzie's undergraduate career. I will, 
however, throw in a few extracts from his letters, which 
will, as I believe, be not without interest. "J^he letters 
are all addressed to sisters, and are written in the tone 
of confidential intercourse. The portions which are 
here preserved may be regarded as straws, shewing 
the direction of the stream of Mackenzie's thoughts at 
this period. 

% -X- * * * 

Your letter has given me great pleasure on a second 

perusal, and indeed, dear A , if we could only see the 

things which are behind this temporal universe, and which 
will be made manifest to us when it is dissolved, how trifling 
should we account those things which now occupy so much 
of our attention; and how vexy different those tilings look, 
when we try to look through them, and when we allow the 
light and glory of those things which are naturally unseen 
to beam through them! And if the glory of the unseen 
world is such as to illuminate earthly beauties with such a 
heavenly radiance, how sui-passingly glorious will be the 
vision, which shall assuredly burst upon our eyes, when 
death shall have dissolved the thick film which now pre- 
vents our seeing clearly. 


There is little doing here different from what I have 
already described. I have picked up the beginning of an 
acqiiaintance with one of my fellow-pupUs, C — , and expect 
to find in him a friend. We agreed one evening in lament- 
ing the fact that a man is constantly hoping that he has 
found pei'fection in an acquaintance, in whom on after and 
further knowledge he finds just faults enough to spoil the 
delightful delusion : and I have been endeavouring to mode- 
rate my hopes of his own perfection by this very maxim. 

There is the chapel-bell going ; so I shall not attempt 
to finish this. I missed going to chapel this morniag for 
the first time since I came up. The fact is I had a very 
slight attack of cold. There is the chapel- bell stopping. 

This is to-morrow evening, and we have just come out 
of hall; so I'll go on. I truly sympathise with you, my 

dear E , in your regrets on the shortlived effects of God's 

dispensations to us, whether of warning and pleading as in 
sickness, or of mercy and love in I'evealing His mercy to 
us. We might almost be tempted to think it would be 
better if we were not such frail fallible eiring creatures as 
we are. But all things are in His hands, and all these 
things are working together for our ultimate good. And 
what, I tliink, we should do, is neither to sit still and fancy 
He will do all for us, (for though it be true that except the 
Lord keep the city their labour is but vain that guard it, 
yet He will not guard those who are careless themselves,) 
nor must we be utterly discouraged, though Satan will often 
whisper that God has forsaken us. But let ixs look to Him 
as a loving Father, who occasionally allows us to withdraw 
our hand from His, that we may know and feel how weak 
our tottering steps are, and how helpless we are without 

And now do not fancy that I am preaching to you in a 
Pharisaical spirit. But mv idea is that siuce we are so 

2— ;i 


often reading things which draw away our minds from God, 
and as our intercourse with society generally has this tend- 
ency, it is well occasionally to try and lielp each other on 
our heavenward course, instead of throwing entanglements 
in each other's way ; and (unlike the literal case) this assist- 
ing each other will give ourselves a "fillip" instead of de- 
taining us. 


You know the prayer for the Church Militant in the 
Communion Service. We have it every Sunday in the Col- 
lege Chapel, and on my more attentive days I do enjoy it 
.so much. I know none which give such a delightful view 
of the communion, in feeling at least, between the Church 
Militant and the Chiu'ch Triumphant. 


Since my return I have not been killing myself with 
work. I have been reading a little in the morninor takinaj 
good exercise in the afternoon, when I could, and playing 
chess all the evening. The latter we have been playing 
under a curious modification : a four game : two and two 
l)artners, playing round in turns, each with his own set of 
men on an enlarged board. If one man is checkmated, he 
does not play any more, and his pieces stand on the board 
and cannot be taken, till his partner takes the piece which 
checks him, or forces its owner to withdraw it, when the 
dead man is restored and plays on again all right. The 
games are very long and sometimes tedious, especially if 
you are mated. We had not time to finish a second the 
other night between six and twelve ! It is rather a waste 
of time perhaps, but then this is the vacation. 


I am going to set to work for the evening in a few mi- 
nutes, but I think a word or two to you first would be plea- 
sant. This has been the fii-st week of work this term, and 
at the beginning I set myself a sort of scheme of what I was 


to do all the term ; and in looking back I find I have lost 
about three or four hours of mathematics, no chapels, no 
exercise, and no sleep : so you see that is pretty well. I am 
not at all inclined to work to-night, but I suppose there is 
no help for it, 


I need not say how fully I feel for and with you in your 
account of your own distress, and I think one consolation 
which you evidently had in your mind is, that this world 
is appointed as a scene of warfare and struggle. Though 
Keble's lines apply directly to acting clergy alone, yet the 
argument is the same to all : 

But chiefly ye should lift your gaze 
Above the world's uncertain haze, 
And look with calm unwavering eye 
On the bright fields beyond the sky, 
Ye, who your Lord's commission bear. 
His way of mercy to prepare : 
Angels He calls ye : be your strife 
To lead on earth an Angel's life. 

Think not of rest ; though dreams be sweet, 
Start up, and ply your heavenward feet I 
Is not God's oath upon your head, 
Ne'er to sink back on slothful bed, 
Never again your loins untie. 
Nor let your torches waste and die. 
Till, when the shadows thickest fall, 
Ye h ar your Master's midnight call? 

And then think of the short, the very short, time it can 
last. How we shall wish one day that we had some farther 
opportunity of working in this life for our Master's glory ! 
I do not know what the commentators say, but it struck me 
the other day that this might be the meaning when it is 
said in the Psalms, " No man praiseth Thee in the grave, 
and shall the dust give thanks, or shall it declare Thy 
truth?" For we shall give thanks to Him in the gi-ave, 


but not declare His truth to man. However, this may be 
straining the text. 

I look forward now a good deal to being at work in a 
parish. I have seen a very little of the sort of thing, and 
this my present wox'k [at the Asylum] is as good a prepa- 
ration as anything I could do in the meantime. But it will 
be much greater and much grander than anything we can 

In January 1848 Mackenzie graduated with Mathe- 
matical honors ; in Cambridge language he was second 
Wrangler, the Senior Wrangler being Mr Todhunter 
of S. John's College. With this amount of success he 
was abundantly satisfied, and it only remained that he 
should obtain one of the two prizes, called Dr Smith's 
prizes, which are given to two of the most distinguished 
mathematicians of the year, in order to complete his 
honours. This prize, however, he was not fortunate 
enough to obtain. As it happened that I was my- 
self one of the examiners, acting as deputy for the 
then Lucasian Professor, Dr King, President of Queens' 
College, I may perhaps be permitted in a few words to 
explain the manner of Mackenzie's failure. Three 
papers were set, one by Dr Whewell, Master of Trinity 
College, another by Professor Challis, and the third by 
myself. No one of the examiners had any doubt as to 
the propriety of assigning the first prize to Mr Tod- 
hunter ; but with regard to the second the results of 
the papers were not unanimous ; in one Mackenzie was 
admitted to be first, in another Mr Barry, fourth 


Wrangler, was allowed to have surpassed him, and in 
the third the examiner was unable to say which of the 
two was the superior ; under these circumstances, the 
examiners, having had two meetings and taken time 
to re-examine the papers, considered that the case was 
one in which they were bound to act upon a provision 
in Dr Smith's will, by which in case of equality he 
desires that men of Trinity College shall have a prefer- 
ence for his prizes. The second prize was accordingly 
adjudged to MrBany. Immediately on knowing the 
result Mackenzie wrote a most friendly letter to his 
successful rival, and remarked to one of his sisters 
that " he felt it was much better for him that it should 
be so : one was so apt to be elated and hurt by too 
much success." 

The following is his letter to Mr Barry. 


Haecos, Tuesday, 
My dear Batiry, 

Your kind note wliicli reached me this mominir 
was the first intimation I had of the resiilt, and I must con- 
fess that at the moment a shade came over my face. But 
when I came to consider the matter, I came to the conclu- 
sion that it was very much better as it is. For myself I 
am convinced that what I had already gained is enough for 
my weak head to stand, though some people might fancy it 
was not much turned by it ; and this now sets you in your 
proper place, and shews openly what all in Cambridge would 
believe without it. 

Do not fancy that I think myself a disappointed man in 
the smallest degree : the prize itself is of course nothing ; 


the being bracketed second is as good in reality as being 
second with a gap below one; and I think my considera- 
tion for others, though it is not always so great as it should 
be, may well lead me to rejoice in sympathy with you. 

I am really very much obliged to you for writing. It 
reproves myself; for I left many letters unanswered when 
I left Cambridge, on the plea of being busy with examina- 
tions. And now, my dear fellow, let me encourage you for 
the next examination '. If you don't think of the happiness 
we are having, who have done with this kind of work, you 
will long for it less, though certainly I am transgressing my 
own rule in thus reminding you ; and finally let me excuse 
myself for the length of this epistle, on the score of a natural 
clumsiness of expression, 

And believe me to be 

Your sincere friend, 

C. F. M. 

An amusing anecdote maybe recorded in connection 
■with this Smith's Prize examination. Mackenzie had 
gone from Cambridge before the result of the examina- 
tion was known, leaving word with his friends to tele- 
graph the result to York, where he would inquire for the 
message, while himself en route to Edinburgh. Arriving 
at York he went to the Telegi'aph Office and asked 
anxiously for the message ; he was informed that a mes- 
sao;e had arrived, but was of so stranoje a character that 
the clerk had telegraphed for a repetition of it, thinking 
that there must be some error. " Let me see it," said 
Mackenzie. Whereupon the clerk handed him the follow- 
ing charming piece of English. " The Muffs have post- 
poned the decision till to-morrow — Keep your tail up." 

^ The examination for the Classical Tripos, in which Mr Barry scon 
after gained first Class honours. 


I am not sure that tlie second word of the message 
was not spelt in a somewhat unusual and eccentric 
manner, namely, Mough. Anyhow the telegraphic offi- 
cial was puzzled ; but Mackenzie relieved his mind by 
assuring him that he understood what was meant, and 
canied away the facetious but unsatisfactory message. 

Another anecdote connected with this period of 
Mackenzie's life will here find a fitting place ; and 
I the rather record it, because it is highly illustrative 
of his character and the principles of his conduct. It so 
happened that the year of Mackenzie's Bachelor of Arts' 
degree coincided Math the 500th Anniversary of the 
foundation of the College : it was a fortunate coinci- 
dence, for Caius College had done itself in that year 
very great credit : it numbered no less than nine 
wranglers, the 2nd, 8th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 18th, 25th, 
S4th and 38th out of a list of thirty-eight, an achieve- 
ment I believe unexampled in the history of any of the 
smaller colleges. The 500th Anniversary of the foun- 
dation of the College was the cause of a grand dinner, 
at which many pleasant toasts were proposed, as befitted 
the occasion. Amongst them the then Bishop of Nor- 
wich (Dr Stanley) proposed, in a very warm-hearted 
speech, the health of Mackenzie and the other wranglers 
who had just brought so much glory to their College. 
Whereupon Mackenzie was compelled unexpectedly to 
make a speech; and the speech he made was very short 
and very blunt, but so thoroughly to the purpose, and 
delivered with such simplicity and such beaming good- 
nature, that it elicited thunders of applause. He said 
that " the Bishop of Norwich had spoken of his fellows 


and himself in terms far too flattering : that they did 
not deserve the praise he had been kind enough to 
award them : for they had only done ivhat was natural 
under the circumstances," — the i-emainder of the speech, 
if remainder there was, was lost in a ton"ent of jovial 
cheering and approbation, and Mackenzie found to his 
surprise, that instead of blundering in his part, as I 
doubt not he had expected to do, he had made one of 
the most successful hits of the evening. He spoke 
however in jest what was true, so far as he himself was 
concerned, in sober earnest : it was always his way to 
do what was natural under any circumstances in which 
he found himself placed : he never strove to seem any- 
thing that he was not, or to do anything which it 
seemed beside his duty to do : he was always easy, 
always natural, and herein lay the secret of that great 
charm of his character to which I am confident that all 
those who knew him well would bear the most abun- 
dant testimony. 

Mr Barry has kindly furnished the following per- 
sonal recollections of this period of Bishop Mackenzie's 

" I first became acquainted with Bishop Mackenzie 
in October 1845, when we were undergraduates to- 
gether at Cambridge. I do not think that I enjoyed 
in his case that special intimacy, which is given only to 
one or two friends, and which, at that time of life 
especially, makes those friends the sharers of almost 
every thought or feeling in a man's mind. But, from 
October 1845 till January 1848 we met constantly in 
Mr Hopkins' mathematical class. In that class (which 


in our year included the first four Wranglers) we had 
daily opportunities of judging of each other, not only 
as to intellectual powers, but also, to some extent, as 
to temper and chai'acter ; and the two Long Vacations 
which we spent together at Cambridge naturally threw 
us more upon one another for companionship. All this 
gave opportunity of mutual knowledge ; and Mackenzie's 
character was one which made such knowledge in his 
case both easy and attractive. 

" I should perhaps leave Mr Hopkins to speak of his 
mathematical powers ; but there may be some peculiar 
interest in the opinion formed of a man by his contem- 
poraries, and of that I can certainly bear my testimony. 
What we were struck with was the union in him of 
great quickness of conception with an unusual compre- 
hensiveness and solidity of understanding. I never re- 
member to have heard from him a single answer which 
betrayed ignorance or misconception of a piinciple. He 
had the true mathematical faculty, the results of which 
are often simulated in examinations by great powers of 
memory and judgment; but which, unlike its counter- 
feit, has real capacity for origination and discovery. In 
fact, that very quickness and originality seemed to us 
occasionally to turn him out of the beaten track which 
leads to the Senate-House. It was not in his way to 
despise regular system ; but he seemed to forget or to 
ignore it, and would obtain results without that regular 
evolution of intermediate steps, on which Cambridge 
Examinations naturally and rightly insist. 

"Except in relation to mathematics, I do not remem- 
ber to have been impressed by his ability. He was no 


great talker on general subjects; I do not think that 
he ever spoke at the Union, or took part in the discus- 
sion of the great religious questions which excited most 
of us so strongly. In the ways, therefore, which most 
bring out a man's ability independently of the course 
of University study, he did not shew much of what was 
in him. It was a subject of some surprise to us that 
such was the case. I hardly know now to what cause 
to refer it. In general intercourse we were most struck 
with the remarkable simplicity, sincerity, and kindliness 
of his character, the utter absence in him of anything 
like conceit or presumption, or that straining after 
effect which every University-man knows as the com- 
mon temptation of the leading men of a year. But I 
do not remember to have noticed in him any decided 
line of opinion or thought; or to have been strongly 
impressed by evidence of any mai-ked and predominant 
influence of religion upon his life. Such influence ma}'- 
have existed, and been kept in reserve; certainly we 
always thought of him as a religious man, and the 
groundwork of a true Christian character was to be 
seen in his almost childlike simplicity, honesty, and 
kindliness of heart. But it did not, so far as I know, 
shine out clear above all other influences, as it did 
in after life. I heard of his devotion to the mission- 
ary work with some surprise, surprise (that is) that 
the impulse to it had been received, but not sm^prise 
that he should count cheap his own gifts and labours in 
any cause which he had once taken up. I heard after- 
wards that the impulse had been given through the 
sermons of one not unlike himself in simplicity and 


practical earnestness. But by whatever means received, 
it, and the train of thought which led to it, seemed to 
make a wonderful change in his whole character." 

The reader who has perused the portions of letters 
printed in this chapter may perhaps regard with some 
astonishment the statements made in the preceding 
paragraph. But I have thought it well to give the two 
testimonies side by side: his own letters shew what was 
going on within, and prove that a strong impulse of re- 
ligious activity, which had in it the germ of missionary 
enterprise, had already touched Mackenzie's heart : the 
reminiscences of his fellow-student shew how modest 
and unobtrusive his religious feeling was. Some per- 
sons may say that it would have been well that his 
light should have been made to shine more distinctly : 
possibly this may be true ; but the point is not worth 
arguing, since my purpose must be to represent 
Mackenzie, not as he might have been, but as he 
was : yet this ought to be said, that the retiring mo- 
desty and unobtrusiveness of his religious character 
was probably that which, more than anything else, 
gave him an influence for good : there was nothing to 
repel : all was brightness, and gentleness, and sunshine : 
and it was scarcely possible to be in his society with- 
out coming to the conclusion, that he had found out 
the secret of life, and that it would be well to be like 


I HAVE not said anything hitherto of Bishop Mackenzie's 
personal appearance. As we have now arrived at a 
period of his Hfe, when his outward man had become 
very much what it continued to be during his brief 
sojourn upon earth, it may be well in this place to 
devote a few lines to the description of his person, for 
the benefit of those amongst my readers, who will know 
him only through the imperfect medium of this me- 

He was tall, nearly six feet high, and very well 
made. He had great muscular strength, and remark- 
able power of endurance. The portrait given in this 
volume gives a fair representation of his face : it was 
not in any critical sense handsome, but it was such a 
face as one loves to look upon. There was in it an 
exceeding gentleness of expression ; indeed it appeared 
to be a face which could not frown : it was withal very 
thoughtful, and had a certain quiet air of deliberation, 
which his friends will well remember. His eyes were 
not large, or rather they were too small, but they were 


very bright, and had a pleasing expression quite pecu- 
liar to themselves. A great deal of courage and de- 
termination was expressed by his mouth. His voice 
was very musical and pleasant, with a little of the 
Scottish accent, especially when he was animated. His 
forehead was fine and well developed, but perhaps 
somewhat exaggerated by his early baldness. On the 
whole his ovitward appearance suited very well with 
his inward character; strong, manly, active, enduring, 
yet gentle and preeminently free from guile. He was 
rapid in his movements, a very fast walker, fond of 
violent exercise, especially of boating; calculated by 
his good health, powerful frame, and excellent spirits, 
to enjoy life physically as completely as it can be en- 
joyed. He sometimes overtasked his strength, and 
appeared for a while oppressed and weary; but he soon 
rallied, and never lost his calm placidity of temper. 
During his residence in Cambridge I believe his good 
health never varied, and his bodily strength (as will 
appear in the sequel) underwent little or no dimi- 
nution during life. In his last sojourn in Africa he 
allowed his beard to grow ; a very necessary precaution 
in the prospect of the life which he was to lead. 

After taking his Bachelor of Arts' degree, Mackenzie 
followed the course into which a number of young men 
are tempted year by year in Cambridge; that is to 
say, he soon became a fellow of his College, worked as 
lecturer or assistant tutor, and employed a certain por- 
tion of his time with private pupils. Meanwhile he 
never allowed himself to look upon this kind of life as 
anything but a temporary and preparatory arrange- 


ment; he ever kept his eye fixed upon the Christian 
]\Iinistry as his work and calhng, and endeavoured to fit 
himself for his future character, both by study and by 
practical assistance in such spiritual works as he found 
lying in his way. Thus he undertook the manage- 
ment of a Sunday school, he took an active part in the 
working of a Mendicity Society, served as secretary to 
the Cambridge Board of Education, and helped to cany 
on the Cambridge Industrial School. In fact, any one 
who had a work of Christian love and practical useful- 
ness in hand knew always where to look for help : 
Mackenzie was always ready to take a part, and though 
in some respects his habits were not those of a man of 
business, being deficient in orderly arrangement and 
economy of time, still there was a heartiness and sim- 
plicity of purpose, and an unfailing supply of good 
humour, which made him a delightful comrade in any 
work, whether secular or religious. 

When I speak of his habits as being in some re- 
spects not those of a man of business, I only say that 
to which he himself frequently bears testimony in his 
letters. In one of them he alludes humorously to a 
saying current amongst his friends, to the effect that 
he had a marvellous facility for getting into "gigantic 
messes," and an equal facility for getting out of them. 
The fact is that he was always ready to consent to 
undertake any kind of useful or benevolent work 
which was pressed upon him ; and not unfrequently 
the engagements which he contracted were incompa- 
tible, or so nearly approaching to incompatibility, that 
it would seem impossible that they could be all ful- 


filled. Yet somehow he contrived to do what he pre- 
mised, and to perform works which men technically 
more business-like would perhaps have failed to ac- 

Correspondence was not his strong point ; at least, 
his correspondence was not regular and not systema- 
tical ; and as a minor defect I may mention that the 
greater number of his college letters are not dated as 
to time, so that they cannot be quite certainly arranged. 
A considerable number of letters, written to his sisters, 
have however been placed in my hands, and I shall 
endeavour, as far as may be, to make them tell the 
main tale of this portion of his life. The tale will be 
very simple and uneventful, and will be chiefly inter- 
esting as exhibiting the quiet and modest manner, in 
which the great purpose of leaving aU and following 
Christ gradually ripened in his soul. 

The following letter addressed to his eldest sister 
will shew something of the inner workings of his mind 
soon after the period of his B.A. degTee. Bearing in 
mind the peculiarly close relation of love and confi- 
dence in which Mackenzie stood to this sister, as already 
mentioned, the reader will believe that he has in this 
letter a genuine peep into the writer's heart, and will 
probably be struck with the honesty of purpose and 
the humility whicli it reveals. The letter, though un- 
dated, may be assigned from internal evidence to April 
1848. On May 4 of that year Mackenzie was apjDointed 
one of the secretaries to the Cambridge Board of Edu- 
cation, in the place of the E.ev. J. J. Smith ; he held 
the office until 1855, when he was compelled to resign 



by his departure for Africa. This is the appointment 
to which allusion is made in the letter. 


Caius College. Friday. 

My dear 

I have been very remiss in my correspondence 
with every one this term, and perhaps with yoii it may 
partly have unconsciously arisen from my not having got 
quite into the sort of reading we thovight of. This has 
arisen partly from my wishing to get on with my Hebrew, 
there being a class which I joined and found myself of 
coiirse quite behind the rest ; and I felt it due to them to 
work as hard as I could, to get up to them as soon as pos- 
sible. But, besides this, I have not given nearly so long to 
divinity as we spoke of; for at first it was some little time 
before I got into the way of my work, and then when I had 
got started fairly boating soon began, and that occupied not 
only the middle of the day when we actually rowed, but the 
morning also, for we breakfasted together; and so I lost not 
only my hour of divinity or Leighton in the morning, but 
I am sorry to say sometimes even my time for reading and 
prayer; and that very soon cast a gloom and deadness on 
my whole life. 

Still all this time I was obliged to give my energies 
during four hours of the day to my pupils. 

It was strange that my work at the Asylum never be- 
came a drudgery or a trouble to me. Indeed, one day I put 
myself and the whole crew to considerable inconvenience on 
purpose that I might go up. But I think I was partly led 
to this by a lurking feeling of pride that I must not be 
remiss in a piece of business which I had voluntarily under- 
taken, and of which a good many people knew. 

And now one consequence of all this has been, that I 


have got the vaguest ideas of what is a man's duty and what 
is not. One thing I clearly see, that it is a duty to study 
the Bible; but I am losing interest in it. Then as to 
prayer, I often don't know what to pray for; and I feel 
sometimes as if I had no object in life. Now this looks, 
I think, very much like the state of a man who has not 
done his duty, and as if I ought to look at the text, " If any 
man will do His will," A:c. But then the question comes 
back, — what is His will 1 I am not breaking any external 
law : I am going regularly to Chapel : aad probably no one 
would find any fault with me who looked at me from with- 
out, — unless they charged me with a little indolence. But 
it is in the heart that the mischief lies, and I don't know 
what to do. I have not been thoroughly happy for some 
time, and have felt lowspirited for a day or two. 

Sometimes I think that the preaching I hear here is too 
much about the feelings — talking about love and faith and 

hope — without speaking of duty. 

* -» * * -A 

Sometimes I feel almost inclined to repine at my lot 
because it is so prosperous, and to wish that I had some of 
those afflictions which are so often spoken of as necessary 
for men : but then I doubt whether it may not be that I 
should be unable to endure, and that God is sparing me till 
my strength is greater. 

I do not think that the respect which is joaid to " a good 
degree" is good for me. The other day, Smith, our late 
tutor, ojETered me an office which he had held, namely, one of 
the Secretaryships to the Cambridge Board of Education. 
At first I declined it, as mixing me up with men so much 
my seniors, and as pushing myself forward. But he over- 
ruled this objection by saying, that my position in the 
University was quite sufficient to justify it, and so by 
Hopkins' advice I accepted, I mention this to shew what 
I consider the idolatry of Mathematical and Classical talent 
which exists here. 

S— 2 


If my poor head could stand it, it would be all very 
well as increasing one's influence over others. 

I mentioned ■ the fact of the vagueness of my ideas of 

duty and of the object of a man's life to and , two 

of my companions. The one said he believed it was com- 
mon at our time of life to have doubts and difficulties, and 
they would wear off. The other became metaphysical, and 
got into the subject of the purposes of temptation, which 
he said was a mystery too deep for us to fathom. 

On the whole I am inclined to think that I have taken 
my religion too much on trust ; and I have trembled to 
think how little foundation I have laid to confront any 
doubts of the inspiration of the Bible, if such should arise 
in my mind. I have often laughed at the idea of doubting 
it, as if I could ever be such a fool; and I am half in- 
clined to go into the question now. 

Of the year 1848 I have hardly any other record 
beside the preceding, but I find in a letter to a sister 
the following pretty passage : 

Do you remember the story of , on seeing the moon 

after his long journey, saying. Eh! hoo far she's corned/ 
That has sometimes suggested to me the very consoling 
thought, that not only the sun and the moon, but a far 
greater than they, is as much in one jjlace as in another; 
and that in the silent chamber, when the eyes are shut, one 
may make a home of every place : and surely that is the 
time when one more apparently and certainly breathes a 
true and real life. If the spirit of such moments were 
spread over our whole day, we should make a home whei'e- 
ever we went, or at least get glimpses of a home that is as 
near one place as another. 


The following year is a still more complete blank 
as regards correspondence; at least, nothing has come 
into my hands serving to illustrate the general fact which 
I know from other sources, namely, that Mackenzie was 
leading a quiet, amiable, and useful life in College, 
lecturing most conscientiously, working vigorously with 
private pupils, taking his share in the work of the 
college-boat, and setting an admirable example to the 
young men above whom he was just one step removed 
in University standing. It is difl&cult to exaggerate 
the usefulness of such a life in Cambridge, while at 
the same time there is very little to be said about it. 
And there was this special excellence in the life and 
example of Mackenzie, that they could not fail to make 
piety popular ; it was, I believe, impossible not to like 
him, and it was eqiially impossible not to respect him ; 
and it may be said, without fear of contradiction from 
those who know the habits and atmosphere of Cam- 
bridge, that a young man of acknowledged intellectual 
ability, who is able to join together, without effort or 
ostentation, the reading of the Scriptures to aged people 
in an Asylum, or the teaching of a Sunday school, with 
the exercises of the river or the cricket-field, is beyond 
all others likely to influence for good the young mem- 
bers of the University. 

The next letter belongs apparently to the summer 
of 1850 ; it refers to the "late interest in the Exami- 
nations," which must mean the College Examinations 
in the month of May, at the conclusion of the work of 
the Easter Term ; and this consideration would seem 
to place the letter somewhere in the Long Vacation of 


that year. But Mackenzie's unfortunate carelessness in 
dating his letters makes it uncertain even to what year 
it belongs ; the point is however of no great moment ; it 
may suffice to say that he seems not to have accepted 
the offer made to him, the records of the school shew- 
ing that he never was actually superintendent. Pray 
observe, readers, the modesty with which he expresses 
a doubt, whether, if Mr Titcomb had known all, he 
would have offered him the situation. The letter is 
to his eldest sister. 

My dear 


Caius College. Monday. 

The immediate object of my writing is to tell you 
of a proposal which was made to me the other day. 

One of the suburbs of Cambridge, called Barnwell, is 
veiy thicldy inhabited, and by poor people. There are two 
schools attached to the pai-ish, and in one of these I taught 
for three or four Sundays this summer, when most of the 
teachers were gone away, for in it almost all the teachers 
are University men. This made my name known to the 
clergyman, Mr Titcomb, and about a fortnight ago he 
offered me the superintendentship of the Girls' school. He 
made the proposal to me verbally through Hopkins, who 
got me my post at the Asylum. Hopkins seemed inclined 
to dissuade me from accepting, because I should then have 
to leave the other — I mean the Asylum. But Mr Titcomb 
wrote me a very strong letter, requesting me to think of it. 
He asked me to breakfast yesterday morning, and then we 
went to the school. The duties are to be there twice on 
Sunday, to oversee the whole, and I suppose to take a class 
occasionally, and to conclude with a short address. Then 


during tlie week there would always be some cliildren to see 
after, aud some houses therefore to go to, and tliis would 
give a taste of parish visiting. 

Now I want your advice. * * '"" * I will just give 
you my own ideas, and if you could manage to write soon, 
I should really like to hear what you think. I should 
not move from my present position, which I am getting 
to like better, without some positive i-eason. As far as I 
am concerned myself, the Sunday work would be longer. 
* * * * -Q^^^ ^j-jgj^ there would be the additional ad- 
vantage of an insight into the working of a Sunday school. 
As to the week-day work, it would be about the same in 
time, perhaps a little more, but different in this respect, 
that there would be more going among people whom I did 
not know, and who did not know me, and would so far 
be more like my final parish-work. At first I thought this 
an advantage, but now I almost think it better to practise 
with people whom I have got to know a little, and not 
to dive at once into the full difficulties of visiting. Then 
as to whether I should be fitted for the position : Mr 
Titcomb thought at first that I had taught for a good while 
in another school, and perhaps if he had known, as he now 
does, that it was only for three or four days, he might not 
have made the offer. 

So far it seems to me the question is pretty nearly ba- 
lanced ; and when I come to consider the two claims upon 
me as duties, it seems still pretty nearly equal. For I 
am engaged with the one at present. Yet Mr Titcomb is 
very pressing. He wishes to have a Bachelor of Arts, and 
not an Undergraduate; and it is not very easy to find 
a resident B.A. who would be willing to undertake the 
work. He says, if I decline, he has no other satisfactory 
course to fall back upon : the present superintendent has 
just been ordained, and has got a curacy. On the whole 
I am in great doubt. I had declined, you see, and now 
it is brought before me again. If an Undergraduate can 


be found to take my place at the Asylum, I almost think 
I shall go : and yet I am getting very fond of the old 
people, and I really think most of them like me ; they 
might be shy with another, at any rate at first. 

T am sorry to say that the late interest in the Exami- 
nations has too much directed my thoughts from other things. 
I never perceived at the time very distinctly that I had 
almost entirely discontinued reading Leighton, or anything 
of that sort. And then too they stopped morning Chapels, 
and that made my attendance then both less regular and 
less profitable : for it is a very different thing going to 
Chapel straight from your bed-room before breakfast, and 
coming away from a merry meeting of friends after dinner 
for the same j^urpose : and, as I always find, everything else 
went wrong at the same tima I did not regi'et that I 
could not see my old people during the Examination week : 
but now that the stress of that is over, I hope to be a 
little more regular ; though I sometimes think, what is the 
use of a religion which yields in time of difficulty, and 
cannot keep straight except in time of ease and peace 1 

In the autumn of 1850 he made a tour in Swit- 
zerland, his first and only tour in that glorious country. 
Notwithstanding the natural deficiency of taste for 
scenery, of which he seems to have been accused in his 
younger days, he manifestly enjoyed this trip exceed- 
ingly. Several letters are before me, written with all 
that enthusiasm which a first acquaintance with the 
grander features of nature is almost sure to beget : there 
is in them, however, nothing so characteristic as to make 
me think it desirable to transfer their contents to these 
pages : Mackenzie performed no gigantic and unprece- 
dented feat of mountaineering, but enjoyed himself in 


the well- worn path, which so many travellers tread year 
by year ; visited Interlaken and the valley of Lauter- 
brunnen, passed over the Wengern Alp, and enjoyed 
Grind el wald, intended to go over the Strahleck and did 
not do it, slept on the summit of the Faulhorn, &c. &c. 
I may observe, however, that the letters give the im- 
pression, which I have had confirmed by actual testi- 
mony, that Mackenzie was a first-rate travelling com- 
panion : few things are more trying to the temper than 
partnership in travel : very good friends fall out under 
the influence of the small annoyances and unavoidable 
differences of opinion incident to this kind of partner- 
ship ; and I have heard of two persons, who during a 
succession of summers started together for a pleasure 
trip, but never returned in company. Perhaps, there- 
fore, this may be a not unfitting place for bearing 
testimony to Mackenzie's perfect serenity of temper 
in small things. I have seen him in many different 
circumstances, sometimes very annoying and trying, 
but I never upon one occasion saw his temper ruffled, 
or observed the slightest cloud of annoyance to settle 
upon his countenance. I may add, that in his Swiss 
letters one of the most prominent points is his anxiety 
about his travelling companions : no pleasure which he 
experienced himself seems to have made so much im- 
pression upon him as his regret at being compelled 
to be behind his time in an appointment to meet a 
friend in Lucerne, and his sorrow that the same friend 
should have been compelled through him to descend 
the Faulhorn in the dusk. 

The year 1851 was the important year of ordination. 


I have observed that from early j^outh Mackenzie had 
looked forward to holy orders as his final destination ; 
he ever kept his eye steadily upon this goal ; and he 
regarded his general education as valuable chiefly in 
the light of a jDreparation for the high office of the 
ministry. Consequently I find in his letters no doubts 
concerning the choice of a profession ; his only question 
was how he could best prepare himself for an office 
for which he believed that he was chosen, but for the 
duties of which he felt himself inadequate and un- 
worthy. He was ordained deacon on Trinity Sunday, 
by the Bishop of Ely. 

The following is an extract from a letter to one of 
his sisters, shortly before his ordination. 


As to myself, I am afraid, dear , there is much 

between what I am and what I was. And it arises I sup- 
pose from forgetting that "■ the violent take the kingdom by 
force;" for in a busy life like mine one must insist with 
oneself on having time for thought, and in this I have fallen 
into my natural defect of acting on impulse, and not on 
method and plan. I know you have warned me of this 
often, and I am writing now to make myself fancy you are 
speaking to me. It is not that my time goes away utterly 
wasted, for it never does that here, at least seldom, but that 
active employment for the mind has a greater charm for me 
than quietness and meditation ; but I will try by God's aid 
to mend this. 

I am in full swing at the school, and as I have not been 
out of Cambridge on Sunday since I came up in January, 
I have had little interruption. 


It was about this time that my own intimacy with 
Mackenzie ripened ; we were thrown much together as 
fellow-workers in the Cambridge Industrial School ; 
this school was established for the purpose of rescuing 
poor boys from the dangers of idleness, and has proved, 
by God's blessing, a more efficient instrument of re- 
formation and improvement than its first promoters had 
even ventured to hope. Mackenzie entered into the 
scheme with all his heart, and won the afi"ections of 
master and boys by his genial kindness. A boy from 
this school accompanied him on his first voyage to 
Africa ; the boy had had only slight opportunities of 
making his acquaintance, but when asked by the master 
whether he would be willing to go, he replied at once, 
" O, I would go anywhere with Mr Mackenzie." But 
I must not anticipate, and I will recall nayself to the 
year 1851, by inserting an extract from the last letter 
which I can find written to his eldest sister before his 


I am now looking forward to an end of my labours for 
this term. The College Examination begins on Monday 
and will be over on Friday the 6th, and then I shall have a 
few days to think of the Examination that is coming. I 
have to thank you, dear, for your sympathy with me now. 
It is indeed a time of important change, like an outdoor 
servant taken to live in the house, and give the whole atten- 
tion instead of only a part to the Master's service. Not 
that I contemplate leaving College yet. I am convinced 
that much good may be done here, if one can only consider 
it as one's parish, and as this is not a very common light to 
regard an ordained fellow in, I am the more inclined to 
remain, as seeing some work to do. 


I have been laying myself out this last half year to get 
intimate with the boys, and have pretty well succeede^l; 
principally I suppose because the occupation accorded with 
my wishes and gave me pleasure; and this is, I think, a 
very great source of influence. However, I am rather 
speculating too much, and after all I am daily more and 
more convinced of the permanent duty of taking care of 
oneself : I mean, avoiding the delusion of thinking of others, 
while oneself is going down hill ; and to this I find myself 

The reader will observe that in the above extract 
Mackenzie speaks of " getting intimate with the boys," 
by which name he designates the Undergraduates. I 
believe that few men have been more successful in this 
work. He was amongst them precisely as an elder 
brother, influencing them for good without obtruding 
advice, and impressing by his presence a high and 
pure tone. The remark was made to one of them, who 
loved him well, on the occasion of the news of his 
decease reaching England, "You must feel as if you 
had lost a brother." " Ah," was the reply, " no brother 
was ever to me what Mackenzie was." 

We now enter upon Mackenzie's clerical life. The 
change was not in his case, as indeed it ought never 
to be, a sudden and violent one. He continued his old 
works of usefulness, and he seems, in the first instance, 
to have looked forward to a lengthened stay in College 
as a clerical fellow. Here is a part of a letter, which, 
for a wonder, is dated, and which expresses his views 
at this time. 



Caius College. July 9, 1851. 
I am unwilling to leave College. I can hardly 
conceive a more useful and important place to be in ; and 
though there are influences for bad here, in the shape of 
clergymen who do not think it necessary to act as parish 
working clergy would, (I am putting it in the extenuating 
language they would use,) yet there are very many who are 
not so, and I don't think the " atmosphere " so unwholesome 

as that of , for instance. I am writing coldly I know, 

but I do not think I am letting selfish considerations overbear 
higher ones. I should like to live here as a clergyman, with 
such of the Undergraduates as I could influence as my 
parish, and to throw up private teaching altogether. 

I have begun my clerical duties by reading prayers, but 
have not preached yet. I intended to have done so ou 
Sunday next, but find my assistance will not be wanted. 
* * * * * 

He very soon however felt a craving for more di- 
rectly ministerial work than any which he could find 
in College ; an offer was made to him of a curacy in 
Shropshire, which would have taken him altogether 
from Cambridge, but this he declined ; and almost im- 
mediately afterwards an opening occurred which seemed 
exactly to meet his views, namely, a curacy in the 
neio^hbourhood of Cambridge, which would enable him 
to have reg-ular parish-work, and yet not remove him 
from a sphere in which, with all his modesty, he must 
have felt that he was making himself very useful. The 
offer of this curacy is communicated to a sister in the 
following letter, in which he also alludes to the curacy 
in Shropshire and to his having declined it. 




Caius College. 
Friday, July 26, 1851. 

Thank you for writing, and tliank yon mucli for 
writing what you did. I have no hesitation myself what- 
ever ; though differing from ' is a strong step ; and I 

don't think I should have felt so easy about it, but that I. 
am sure she does not know the position of things here, and 
therefore that I can judge better than she can. I had a 

most kind letter from , offering, in a neat way, if I took 

this and wished her to come to me there, to come at once : 
but I had made up my mind. I must write and thank her, 
however. Luckily for me the thing was put out of the 
question at once by my having agreed to be one of the 
Examiners in the University Examination next January ; 
and that I could not well put off. Besides, I should not like 
to leave my place in College in a hurry, as they would need 
to appoint a successor : but your notion of the work I might 
do here is quite my own, and I believe for a time that will 
be best. 

I have been offered a sub-curacy (if I may coin the 
word) about five miles from Cambridge. The curate is 
virtually rector, and I should be his curate. The popula- 
tion is about 900, I believe, and in winter I should have the 
principal weight of it on my shoulders ; but on the Sunday 

I could always get help. 

* ;:- * * * 

The next letter, written to his eldest sister from a 
place in which he was taking temporary duty, again 
refers to the curacy near Cambridge, the duties of 
which he had now arranged to take after the Long 

^ His eldest sister. 



Little Waltham, Essex. 
August 7, 1851. 

Dearest , 

I dare say you do not know what I am doing. You 
know I have taken the duty once or twice for a friend in a 
stray way already, but I like better being resident as I am 
now. A friend, a man of my own year at Cambridge, is the 
curate here ; and finding his thi'oat inflamed, he asked me 
to relieve him for a week or two. So I came here on Mon- 
day, and shall do his duty in Church and a little visiting for 
a fortnight. It is next best to having a parish of my own ; 
and that I have arranged to have in the neighbourhood of 
Cambridge, as soon as I go back in October to College, as 
you have probably heard from Harcus. * * * The 
Rev. W. Clark is to be my Rector, though he is only Curate 
himself. * *■ ■' As far as working the parish is 

concerned, I am clear it will not be so satisfactory as if I 
had nothing else to do ; but as Mr Clark knows my position 
exactly, and can get no one better for his purpose, part of 
the disagreeableness is removed, and I do really wish to 
remain in College for a time. 

I find it difficult to write sermons, not so much for want 
of something to say, as from the temptation to ramble. I 
am afraid too that those I have written are hardly under- 
stood by the poor people. However, I suppose if one tries 
always to get simple, it will come in time. My object 
ought to be, I suppose, to catch attention, and then preach 
the simple doctrine of Christ crucified : at least, if that is 
not the principal topic of the second half of my sermon, 
ought it not to come in somewhere 1 At any rate, when I 
have but two Sundays to preach to this congregation, I 
think I ought to be very distinct in this : perhaps in my 
own curacy it may require a little variety ; and there are 
other things of importance doubtless besides this one, but it 
is never difficult to turn the subject to this. 


I liave been taking a good deal of interest in Cambridge 

in a Mendicity Society there ; but I think I must have told 

you of it. 


In the Mendicity Society, mentioned in tlie fore- 
going letter, Mackenzie was most active, taking (as 
usual with him) the most laborious share of the work. 
The purpose of the Society was, and still is, to prevent 
the encouragement of systematic mendicancy, which in 
a place like Cambridge is liable to grow into a fearful 
evil. It has been said, and I believe with truth, that 
beggars have been in the habit of coming to Cambridge 
in term-time, and seeking other pastures during the 
vacations, as regularly as the members of the Uni- 
versity. In order to stop the bestowal of alms upon 
such unworthy recipients, and at the same time relieve 
the truly unfortunate, a house was opened in Barnwell 
into which poor travellers could be admitted by tickets 
signed by subscribers. The house was put under the 
charge of a constable, whose wife acted as matron; all 
cases were examined; and the genuine poor travellers 
were supplied with a clean lodging for the night, with 
supper, and with breakfast before starting next morn- 
ing. The working of this machinery has been found 
exceedingly satisfactory in Cambridge, and I believe in 
other places also; but in order to give the right tone to 
the establishment, and to turn (if it might be) the short 
sojourn of the poor travellers to some spiritual profit, it 
was necessary that some one interested in the work 
should go up to the mendicity house in the evening, 
speak a few kind words to the inmates, and conduct 
evening prayers. Mackenzie was one of the volunteers 


for this work. On one occasion I accompanied him, 
and was much struck with the manner in which he ac- 
comphshed his task. I was sure that he would succeed 
in making his presence agreeable to the poor travellers, 
but I was not prepared to find him so successful as he 
proved himself to be in conducting the family worship. 
He read a chapter from the Scriptures, and then made 
a short comment upon it with a simplicity and earnest- 
ness and readiness, which made the lesson as well 
adapted for its purpose, in my judgment, as it could 
be. The prayers were from the Book of Common 
Prayer, which seemed to him to be for all purposes a 
sufficient manual of devotion*. 

In the summer of 1851 he conducted a mathematical 
examination at Eton. Some of his impressions are con- 
tained in a letter to a sister. 

• I subjoin a characteristic circular, printed by Mackenzie, and given 
to Members of the University: — 

"It is better to give One Shilling to the Mendicity Society, than 
Tvpo Sixpences or Twelve Pence in indiscriminate charity ; for by this 
Society relief is given in a shape in v?hich it cannot be abused, and in 
which it does not suit the tastes of professional beggars; and there is 
an additional advantage attending this form of charity, viz. that one 
night of perfect order and peace is secured to the recipient. 

"In order to divert into this more useful channel the money which 
is constantly given to beggars, and which in most cases does harm 
instead of good, I shall be very happy to receive at any time, any sum, 
however small, and shall keep a special purse in my pocket for the 
purpose : the amount so obtained will be entered in the Subsci'iption 
List of the Society as small donations from Caius College. 

" If any one wishes to see the working of the Society, and will call 
on me a little before Seven any Evening before the end of this month, I 
shall be most happy to take him with me when I go to admit the 

Caius College, Nov. 15, 1851." 




* * * This is by way of explanation of my silence. 
So you are to put yourself back a week, aud tben read on. 
You have seen my declining of the curacy, and I hope no 
one is distressed at it. I have no doubt myself I am doing 
what is best on the whole ; but I want to thank you for the 
kind way you proposed to accompany me. It would, I fully 
believe, have been very pleasant, and the people seemed nice 

people ft-om the little we knew of them. 


My visit to Eton was pleasant enough. I think a Public 
School is the finest thing I ever saw : at least my ideal of it 
is. I think they are tiying at Eton to work out the system^ 
and make the most of it : I mean, to keep up a good spirffc,^; (• 
of gentlemanly feeling among the boys, and I dare s^l^ 
C'hristian feeling too ; though I was there hardly l<rng 
enough to see this attempt so distinctly as the othei\ What 
a field of occupation ! 600 picked boys out of England ! I 
went to chapel twice, on Sunday and on Tuesday. They 
wei-e very well-behaved. What an opportunity for any of 
the masters, by their manner, to give solemnity to the place, 
and keep i;p the home-reverence, which is a little apt to 
be lost, if chapel is made frequent. I think, — at least I 
thought while on the spot, — that no life could be so charming 
as that of a master there ; I said so, and they agreed, but 
said there were dark pages novv and then too. I think you 
will enter into my feelings on this point better than any 
one else. 

In the October term (1851) he commenced his work 
at Haslingfield, which he continued until the time of 
his first departure for Africa. It was very laborious, 
and few men could have borne the effort; but with him 
it was a labour perpetually lighted up by sunshiDO, and 


the effort was not apparent. As a general rule he com- 
bined his parochial duties at Haslingfield with college- 
work, but in the vacations he several times left his 
college-rooms, took lodgings at the house of the village 
schoolmaster, and gave himself up unreservedly to the 
work of his parish. On several occasions I have spent 
a day with him in his village-home : very pleasant and 
bright those days were: but days always were pleasant 
and bright in Mackenzie's company. 

The date of the following letter is December 1851, 
when he had had a few months' experience of parish- 


{To a Sister-r) 

I find college and parisli-work very heavy together, but 
hope before the time of my present engagement is out, 
namely, next October, to have discovered how to combine 
them without overworking myself. I meant to have given 
you a journal of my work to shew you that my neglect 
has not been intentional, but perhaps you will beUeve me 

I have never been able to get out to my parish, Hasling- 
field as it is called, more than onc3 during the week, and as 
YOU might conceive, have not been further than the visiting of 
the sick. This vacation I shall be a good deal occupied with 
preparing for the Examinations next month : but that is a 
kind of work which is in my own hands more than lectures : 
I can work double one day, and nojie the next : so I shall 
get out at least twice a week, I hope. 

I have been reading Evans' Bishojyric of Souls. He has 

given me a great longing for a country parish and nothing 

tige to do : but I believe I am more iiseful as I am. 
* * * ' * * 



My ordinary practice lias been to walk out to my curacy 
in time for the scliool, which is at half-past nine. I take a 
class of a dozen ; but the remaining thirty are all in the 
room, and I have some difficulty in hearing or being heard. 
However, I have the advantage of letting the master get 
away for a quarter of an hour, to practise the hymns with the 
girls, who sing in church. Then at half-past ten service 
begins, and Mr Clark or I do the whole. This lasts till 
about a quarter to one. We dine at the vicarage, which is 
Mr Clark's house, and go into church again at half-past 
two. About a quarter of an hour after we have come out I 
set off and walk home. It is five and a half miles, and I 
generally take an hour and ten minutes, or an hour and a 
quarter. So you see the grass does not grow under my feet. 
When I get home, which is before six, I have tea or cold 
meat ; and at a quarter jjast seven I go out to one of the 

churches, 's, and hear the sermon only ; the fact 

being, that neither Mr Clark's sermons nor my own are 
quite to my taste, and I like to hear one good sermon in the 

day. Then I come back and have tea with , where I 

usuallj' meet three or four or five friends, and go to bed 

In tlie January of 1852 Mackenzie was for the first 
time Examiner for Mathematical Honours. I was my- 
self Senior Moderator on the same occasion, and the 
preparatory work for the Examination was therefore, 
according to custom, chiefly done at my house. Thus 
I was brought into a new relation with Mackenzie; I 
found him as agreeable a companion in an examination 
as he had proved under other circumstances; modest, 
cheerful, amiable. He expressed much good-humoured 
surprise at the trouble which the preparation of ques- 
tions for the Examination cost him. The practice in 


Cambridge, and it is a very wholesome one, is for each 
Examiner to submit to the whole Board each question 
which he intends to propose to the Candidates for Ma- 
thematical Honours: and each member of the Board, 
when a question has been read, makes it his business 
to criticise it with the utmost severity. No ordeal can 
very well be more searching ; and before it is finally 
approved, every question is thoroughly sifted both as to 
its principle, its difficulty, and the mode of its expres- 
sion. Mackenzie had not prepared his questions with 
the prospect of so severe a test ; and I remember well 
the good-humoured regret with which, after much dis- 
cussion and hearing a variety of objections, he finally 
abandoned several of his questions, with the remark, 
" Well, the fact of the matter seems to be, that it won't 
do any way." 

The examination interfered with Haslingfield mi- 
nistrations for a time, but when it was over he returned 
to them with renewed satisfaction. The following letter 
seems to have been written in the beginning of March 


(To a Sister.) 

Caius College. Tuesday. 
Dear , 

Your letter threw a shade over the day I got it. 
Not because you had scolded me, but I thought I could 
see you look cold at me through the pen and ink : at least 
part of your letter gave me that " feel : " others were like 
your own good kind hearty self. 

-X- -K- * * * 

It is indeed as you supposed. I have not had much 


work wliich reqiiu'ed to be done at a given time, and so 
have been always in arrear : making frantic efforts to get 
up at five, and so get a start in the day, which has probably 
ended in my being sleepy for an evening or two afterwards. 

I fancy sometimes I feel the evil of not taking exei'cise 
regularly, as I did when an undergraduate. There are some 
of my duties now which must be done between two and four 
in the afternoon, which is the universal time for exercise 
here, and then on those days I perhaps get none, while on 
another day I have a great deal. On Siinday I have always 
my eleven miles walk, besides the duty, which is fatiguing. 
To-day I shall be at a meeting of the Mendicity Society's 
Committee at two, and as chaplain at the Hospital at three : 
so I shall certainly have no walk. 


I am greatly disappointed with our boat this year. 
They are pulliug so badly, and are losing places day after 
day. Poor Caius is not the place for " pluck," (do you 
know the word V) and yet by the bye we have some good 
cricketers now. 


You understand I hope that I am penitent about not 
writing to you and every one else, and that I have written 
this not under compulsion, but only because I did not dare 
delay longer. 

C. F. M. 

Amongst other duties Mackenzie, as intimated in 
the preceding letter, took his turn as chaplain of Ad- 
denbrooke's Hospital. It was characteristic of him not 
to be content with the ordinary duties of the office, but 
to be ready to promote in every way the comfort of 
the patients. The arrangements for the out-door pa- 
tients were at that time very incomplete; these patients 


saw the physicians, received their prescriptions, and 
then were obhged to wait until they could make their 
way to the little window of the dispensary and receive 
their medicines ; not always a very easy task, the wait- 
ing hall being quite full. The effect was that the 
weakest were attended to last, and those who could 
with least inconvenience remain were first served. 
Moreover, the confusion and discomfort were very con- 
siderable. Mackenzie took the matter in hand, and by 
means of a system of tickets, the working of which he 
personally superintended for some weeks, he speedily 
introduced order, and banished much of the inconveni- 
ence which had been previously felt. This may seem 
a trifling feat, and hardly worthy of being chronicled ; 
but, in truth, it was this spirit of active kindness, this 
readiness to help in little things when the comfort of 
others was concerned, which caused much of that warmth 
of affection with which Mackenzie was regarded by his 

The next letter belongs to the beginning of the 
Long Vacation, and looks forward to the stir created 
for a few days in the quiet dulness of the University 
by the Master of Arts' Commencement. The descrip- 
tion is put out of date by recent changes in the 
University; and the dulness of the Long Vacation now 
knows no break. The old arrangement, doubtless, had 
inconveniences ; but the meeting of men, who had known 
each other as undergraduates, after several years of 
actual contact with the world and its work and its 
cares, was very pleasant, and frequently not without 



(To a Sister.) 

Caius College. Thursday. 
Dear , 

Your letter on Sunday morning was a gi-eat de- 
light to me. I feel such a disinclination to write after a 
long silence, that if you take courage to break it, it is a 
great relief to me. 

It is very true what you say of difficulties, apparently 
insurmountable, giving way to the influence of time and 
circumstances. I always connect such cases with that of 
the women at the sepulchre — who shall roll us away the 

stone ? 

* * * -ss- * 

You have had gi-eat doings with your twenty-five-per- 
sons luncheon party. D was in my rooms when I was 

reading your letter, and when I told him, he said, " What a 
happy family you seem to be, always so glad to see each 
other, and to be together:" and so I think we are ; at least 
I am coming to think that no one is so well treated by his 
own people as I am. 

You are quite right, dear , in praying that I may 

be kept humble in this place of literary excitement. I don't 
know what would become of me, if I had not the parish 
to draw my mind to better things : I am never happier 
than when out there. Just now I am pressed by making 
papers for the Examination of a school in London. I make 
the papers here and send them up, and they send me down 
again the answers of the boys. And besides this, men are 
continually coming up to college just for a day, and they 
consider a settled man like me as their lawful prey, and I too 
am glad to see them, but it takes up time ; and more than 
that, distracts one, (like the elephant that does more damage 
to the forest by pushing through, than by all he eats, ten 
times over). 


R was liere on Monday and Tuesday ; he was one 

of my two or three gi-eatest friends before we took our 
degrees ; and now we don't meet more than once or twice 

in a year. Then on Tuesday evening E came here and 

went next morning ; he has been abroad for fourteen 
months, and of course had plenty to say. Then this morn- 

ing D came in just when my breakfast was done, 

having arrived by train : so I gave him breakfast, and this 
afternoon an aunt of his is coming up for three or four 
hours, and I must have a lunch-dinner with them. This 

evening I have promised to go to J 's rooms. H 

too is coming up to-night, and will be in my rooms every 

morning, no doubt. Then on Saturday M and a heap 

of others will come up and stay till Tuesday, taking the 
degree of M.A., and I shall give them a breakfast party or 
two, and take walks with them separately, and so on ; and 
then I look forward to a fortnight or three weeks of peace, 
in which, no doubt, if I write to you, you will find me 
grumbling at the dulness. 

I think I never described such a thing to you before. 

Observe, it is an extreme case ; partly because in term-time 

half of one's duties are inflexible, such as lectures, and so 

a little amusement for the rest of the day is pleasant 



In the course of the Long Vacation he got away 
from college, settled himself down in his quiet lodgings 
at Haslingfield, and from thence wrote to one of his 
sisters as follows : 


Haslingfield, Cambkidgeshibe. 


Here you see I am arrived. I have taken a couple 
of rooms in the schoolmaster's house. 


* * * * -iS- 

I got here at ten o'clock on Monday night, I had sent 
my portmanteau by a carrier, and intending to walk I was 
easily induced to remain by little things that had to be done 

in Cambridge. H • walked half-way with me, and then 

I came on alone over the fields. It was a strange feeling on 
two accounts. Partly, I was coming to live in a strange 
place as a home, a thing I have not done since I came to 
college, and since I went to school, — which has on the two 
former occasions brought desolation, but not on this. The 
other reason of strangeness was that now I was beginning 
what will take place when I am a placed minister, a thing 
which I think will be very delightful. 

I have the schoolmistress as my waiter, assisted by her 
daughter, a child of eleven or twelve, who is very shy, having 
never waited on a gentleman before. The next morning, 
after coming in with the eggs, and asking if I wanted any- 
thing more, (which she had evidently been told to do, but 
as evidently had not been told to listen to my answer,) she 
stood (on one foot, I suppose, or some other uncomfortable 
position,) for an instant, and then darted off through the 


I have already spoken of Mackenzie's residence at 
Haslingfield : I will only add here that he set himself 
vigorously to work to make personal acquaintance with 
his parishioners, and, as I have heard incidentally, with 
great success. The memory of him is still cherished in 
the parish. It was quite to be expected, however, 
that he should feel disappointed with his own efforts: 
every honest and earnest man is doomed to this feeling 
of disapjDointment : it is only when the aim of a Chris- 
tian minister is contracted and his standard of excel- 
lence low, that he can feel satisfied with what he has 


been able to do. Hence I am not surprised at the 
tone of the following letter, which I find from the post- 
mark to have been written in the beginning of August. 


{To a Sister.) 

Haslingfield. Thursday. 

Dear , 


I propose being ordained priest on the 19 th of Septem- 
ber by the Bishop of Ely, and think of coming north at once 

after that. 


I find this living in the country not so profitable as I 
expected — I mean that I don't get so well to work as I 
hoped. I find great difficulty in writing a sermon here ; 
partly I think from the want of books, partly from the 
novelty of the place. And I have not been so active in 
visiting. There was something very definite in walking 
from Cambridge to see those who needed to be called upon ; 
but now that I am among them, I can do it at any time. 
Then I never forget that I have problems to make for 
January, and I cannot do much of that wnrk out here. 

However, I have seen more of the school a great deal 
than before. And even of the people I have seen more than 
I shoidd have done had I been in Cambridge. 

The "Problems for January," spoken of in the above 
letter, were Senate-house problems, Mhich it devolved 
upon Mackenzie to supply as Moderator. He was Se- 
nior Moderator in January 1853, and again in 1854. 
Those who did not know Mackenzie personally might 
be surprised, that having so ardent a love of the work 


of a country parish-priest, he could allow himself to 
undertake so many other occupations and duties. But 
the fact is he delighted in work, and his good nature 
and desire to be useful were so strong that he found it 
impossible to refuse, when requested to undertake to 
do anything of real importance which required to be 

He was ordained priest at the time proposed, but 
I find no special reference to the event in any of his 

Mackenzie was not by natural gift an orator. He 
had no great flow of words, and no fervour of imagi- 
nation, such as enable a man to throw an interest into 
a subject in itself dry and uninteresting. When it be- 
came necessary for him afterwards frequently to address 
public meetings, and when he had an important theme 
upon which to speak, his earnestness and simplicity 
made all that he said very impressive ; and his active 
self-devotion gave more emphasis to his words than 
any mere eloquence could have supplied. Here is an 
extract from a letter, in which he speaks with charac- 
teristic modesty of his first attempt to make a speech. 
The letter belongs to the latter part of the year; the 
school spoken of is the Cambridge Industrial School. 

{To a Sister.) 

Caius College. Tuesday. 


I am very happy in having lots to do, which is become 
necessary to me now. I enclose you a copy of some speeches 


made in the Town Hall last week, one of them by me. It 
is my first real attempt at the thing, and is not a first-rate 
one, but I have got over the nervousness of getting on my 
legs pretty well. I thought little of it before, and knew not 
a great deal about the school, though I am one of the Com- 
mittee ; it takes a while to get a good knowledge of a plan 
of the kind. Next time I hope I shall know more about 
what I am saying, and make a better show. 

And this will be a proper point at which to finish 
this chapter, for the next year will open to us a new 
view of Mackenzie's life. Hitherto, it will be observed, 
college-work and parish-work have entirely filled his 
mind ; in the next chapter we shall see how it pleased 
God to open his mind to a severer view of his duty, 
and to commence his education as a Missionary. 


The year 1853 began, as we have seen, with a Senate- 
house Examination. While engaged in this laborious 
and responsible work, Mackenzie very wisely obtained 
regular help for his parish : in fact, his friend the Rev. 
W. W. Hutt, then a fellow of Caius College, undertook 
the whole of the duty, as he did previously in 1852, 
when Mackenzie was Examiner, and again in 1854, when 
he was Senior Moderator. When Mackenzie left Eng- 
land, he had the satisfaction of leaving his flock in the 
hands of this faithful friend. 

This will explain Mackenzie's long absence from his 
parish, as mentioned in the next letter. That letter is 
the only one which I find in the beginning of this year, 
previous to the very important communication which 
follows it, and upon which I shall have a few words to 
say presently. It will be seen that at the end of Febru- 
ary his heart was still full of Cambridge; no thought 
of foreign service had apparently then crossed his mind ; 
he was evidentl}^ quite happy in his work ; indeed they 
who remember his joyous countenance and unmingled 


cheerfulness and readiness for work in those days can- 
not doubt of his happiness. Hence the letter which fol- 
lows will, I think, appear all the more remarkable ; and 
different as the first letter is from the second, (the letter 
of Feb. 24 from that of April 23,) I do not know that a 
more striking introduction to the second could be sup- 
plied than that which is contained in the first. 


{To a Sister). 


Caius College, 
Feb. 24, 1853. 

We shall really be ruined if we go on writing to 
each other the moment we get a letter; and if by any acci- 
dent an additional letter were written there would imme- 
diately be a double fire. This is all d propos of my having 
just read your letter. 

Thanks for all your news, and above all for your few 

woi'ds about . Is'nt it strange how people get drawn 

together when they are all drawn toward Christ % You 
know it is their common attraction to the sun that keeps 
the planets within sight of each other. 

I was at Haslingfield last Sunday for the first time since 
November. Do you know I had a dislike of going there 
again, and thought of giving it up ; but, as indeed I knew 
it would be, when I had been there I was quite happy. 

And now I must bring before the reader the turning 
point of Mackenzie's spiritual life. The immediate 
cause of his attention being called to Missionary-work 
was, as will be seen, the establishment of a Mission at 
Delhi, by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel 


in Foreign Parts. It would be out of place to say much 
concerning that Mission, but I may observe that the 
Rev. J. S. Jackson, who was the first missionary, was of 
the same College as Mackenzie, and three years junior 
to him in standing. The opening of this Mission was 
very promising ; but very soon came the Indian mutiny, 
and the mission was for a while swept away under most 
tragical circumstances. Mr Jackson's companion in la- 
bour was murdered ; he himself was absent from Delhi 
at the time of the outbreak, and was thus preserved. 
In the "Colonial Church Chronicle" for June 1854, I 
find the following notice : " The Rev. J. S. Jackson and 
the Rev. A. Hubbard arrived in Delhi on February 11, 
after making a short stay at the Colleges at Calcutta 
and Benares. They found the nucleus of a mission con- 
sisting of a score of native Christians, who are assem- 
bled every Sunday in the Station Church by a teacher 
in the Government College." In the number of the 
same periodical for August 1857, there is a letter from 
Dr Kay of Bishop's College, Calcutta, which contains 
the following : " The Delhi Mission has been completely 
swept away. Rumours to this effect were current from 
the beginning of the outbreak, but we kept on hoping 
that some of the members of the Mission might have 
escaped. Two native Christians succeeded in escaping 
to Agra. One of them says that he saw Mr Hubbard 
fall..,. And Mr Jackson has been spared...." 

This, in few words, was the history of the mission 
which first inspired Mackenzie's mind with missionary 
thoughts ; the Mr Hubbard spoken of as having lost his 
life in the outbreak, was the man whose place he 
was desirous to have filled. The manner in which 


the Delhi Mission was brought prominently before 
him, so as to lead him to wish to give himself to the 
work, will be best told in his own words. He com- 
municated his views fully and honestly to his eldest 
sister in a letter, which I am now about to lay before 
the reader. This letter is the pivot, so to speak, of 
Mackenzie's spiritual history. I do not know how it may 
strike the reader's mind, and I do not pretend to be a 
quite impartial judge. I confess to a degree of reve- 
rence and admiration for the writer, which may have 
led me to over-estimate its character ; but I do not hesi- 
tate to speak of it as being, in my opinion, one of the 
noblest and most touching compositions that I have 
ever seen. 


Catus College, 

Saturday, April 23. 

Deaeest , 

We have spoken before now about the advan- 
tages of my remaining in College, and whether it would 
not be better for me to find some more directly clerical 
work elsewhere. I have been thinking about a change 
lately, and should like before definitely making up my mind 
to have your opinion on the matter. This will probably be 
a longish letter, and as I don't know at what hour you may 
get it, or what you may be doing, I wish you would lay 
it aside till you have half an hour quiet. 

I don't think you ever quite liked my staying here ; at 
least, if you did, I think it was more in deference to my 
opinion than from your own conviction. What I have said 
has been that it is a mistake to say this is a place in which 



nothing clerical can be done, and I still think that a really 
good man, if he were liked here, might do much good : 
indeed I can hardly think of a moi'e important jjlace in 
England, except perhaps the head-mastership of a school, 
and even that falls short of this place in one respect, that 
without doubt a considerable number of the Fellows do not 
consider their responsibilities but may be induced to do so 
by a few good examples ; and so a little leaven leavening 
the whole lump, there would be a great inci'ease of good 
influence brought to bear upon the flower of England's 
upper classes, at an impressible age, and one at which 
character is set for life. 

I say all this to shew that I still think I have been 
right in my theory that this is a place particularly adapted 
for a good man to do good : and if nothing now presented 
itself except a curacy in some part of England I should not, 
I think, hesitate to remain here. But there is another field 
open, for which it is very difficult to find labourers. A great 
friend of mine, called Jackson, my junior by three years, has 
been induced to undertake the position of chief of a new 
mission at Delhi, and has been for some time anxious to find 
a companion to go with him. At first a friend of his, of his 
own standing, agreed to go ; but he has since declined, I 
don't know why. Jackson applied to me among others to 
try and find some one to go with him ; and I spoke to 
one young man, an undergraduate of this college, who had 
once said something of having an uncle in India, who was 
very anxious he should go out to India as a missionary. 
However when I came to speak of Jackson's going out, I 
found he had no settled intentions himself, and so the 
matter di'opped. 

I remember when used to speak to us about going 

out as Missionaries, he used sometimes to say, he had been 
asked why he did not go himself, and though he said he was 
too old, and that he had duties in England, I used to think 
his defence not very strong. I i-emember too, when some 


years ago the subject of medical missions excited interest 

saying to me, " Why shoixld not you go ? they want 

men very much," and my answer was, "I am not goin«y :" 
I would not admit the idea into sei-ious contemplation. 

And when Jackson came to Cambridge a month or two 
ago, to try and find a colleague, I thought once or twice, 
why should not / go, but said nothing to him, as I thought 
that would be unfair before I was more definite myself 
I spoke of my feelings to one or two Cambridge friends, in 
a general way, saying that I could not see any reason why 
one of us should not go, and I was afraid it was because we 
could not make up our minds to the self-denial, and that 
there was no good reason, but ended by saying, " Don't 
be alarmed, I'm not going;" and so it passed ofi*. 

But on Thursday Jackson came again and we chatted 
quietly about his prospects, and the opening there was, and 
how he wished he could find some one ; and after he left 
me I read a bit of Henry Martyn's life before lie left 
England ; and I determined for the first time, and prayed 
God to help me, to think what was best to be done, and 
to do it. I thought chiefly of the command, " Go and 
baptize all nations," and how some one ought to go : and 
I thought how in another world one would look back and 
rejoice at having seized this opportunity of taking the good 
news of the Gospel to those who had never heard it, but 
for whom as well as for us Christ died. I thought of the 
Saviour sitting in Heaven and looking down upon this 
world, and seeing lis who have heard the news, selfishly 
keejjing it to ourselves, and only one or two, or eight or 
ten, going out in the year to preach to His other sheep, who 
must be brought, that there may be " one fold and one 
shepherd:" and I thought if other men would go abroad, 
then I might stay at home ; but as no one, or so few, would 
go out, then it was the duty of every one that could go to 
go. You see I thought of the pleasure and the duty, and 
I think they were both cogent reasons. So I determined 



to sleep ujion it ; and in the morning, wlien I thought about 
it, the more I thought the more clear I got. I thought of 
my duties here, and how I had been in the habit of con- 
sidering them superior in importance to anything else ; but 
then that was in comparison with posts for which there 
was no lack of persons to be found ; whereas this was a 
thing which it seemed no one could be found to do. I 
thought too of what I have considered the qualifications 
for usefulness in Cambridge, namely, my good degree, and 
the way people don't dislike me, and my pretty large ac- 
quaintance : but then I thought, these things will not be 
lost, for though it would be no argument if there were no 
other ai-guments, yet it removes the objection to my leaving 
Cambridge to say that the better I am known the more in- 
terest will be raised in the missionary cause. Then I 
thought too of Jackson, and how disheartening it was for 
him, his first friend leaving him, and every one else saying, 
"I wish I could find some one to go with you," but no one 
thinking of going ; and I thought, what right have I to say 
to young men here, "you had better go out to India," when 
I am hugging myself in my comfortable place at home. 

So I determined to tell Jackson what I was thinking of, 
and found he would like me to go with him, and his only 
diflB.culty was that he thought I was useful here. Now the 
consideration of this was one thing which further induced 
me to go. For though I may say I have tried sometimes to 
be useful, yet it has been far too much with me a matter of 
intention and hope ; and the day when I was to do good has 
always seemed to retire befox*e me. I am now twenty-eight, 
and it is high time I was doing something. I have given 
this place a good trial, and am thoroughly dissatisfied. I 
can't go into details on this point. 

I took a long walk that day, and thought it well over, 
and made up my mind that God would approve of the 
change, that Christ would approve, and that the Holy Spirit 
would help me in it. I thought ray dear mother would 


have smiled tlirougli her tears at the plan if she had still 
lived, and that she would now rejoice without grief. I 
thought you would give me your solid and sober judgment 
upon it, and I thought that your opinion would be in favour. 

I was not so sure of , but I thought she would be 

willing that her own heart's comfort should be made known 
to those who now have no means of hearing. I thought 

would at one time have thought of coming with me, 

but I feared she was not strong enough ; but I was sure she 
would be glad. I could not so well tell what the rest would 

think. I thought would be surprised, and would soon 

forget it. I thought too of my work here as Lecturer, and 
arranged in my mind who there was that would take my 
place. If there had been no one, there is a kind of College 
spirit that would have ui'ged me to stay here. 

I thought of my futuz-e prospects, and saw that by 
keeping my Fellowship I should have nearly £200 a year 
besides the salary of the Society, which would be I suppose 
between £100 and £200 ; this would be more than enough 
for me there ; and I should either stay there for the rest of 
my life, or, if compelled to return, should have my offer of a 
College living to fall back upon. 

All this I have put down to shew that though I have 
not had much time, yet I have not omitted the necessary 
considerations. Indeed, the general question of the advan- 
tage the duty and the pleasure of going out I had considered 
before, first in advising Jackson to close with the offer that 
was made to him, and again in looking for some one else to 
be his colleague. And all that I have had to think of these 
last few days has been, whether there was anything peculiar 
in my own case that should prevent me fi'om going. 

And I fi-eely confess I can see nothing except my own 
unfitness. I am rather afraid of my own instability and 
want of method and perseverance, habits which have been 
increasing with me of late. I am rather afraid of their in- 
juring the cause I am going to undertake. But at the same 


time I hope that the having one main object in life may- 
assist in steadying me : at present I have scores of interests 
all claiming attention. And I do trust that if I go forth 
boldly trusting in God, He will not fail to help me. 

I have not much time to write more, yet I must tell you 
something about the work I am going to. At Delhi there 
are of course a great number of young men of good talents, 
and likely to have gi-eat influence as they grow up. There 
is a Government school, to which they come in great num- 
bers, but at which they receive no religious instruction : yet 
the general knowledge they get shakes their confidence in 
their own system, and they are in danger of becoming infi- 
dels. That is the general state of the case, and is I fancy 
common enough in India, There is a considerable spirit of 
inquiry among them ; and the Chaplain on the spot has en- 
couraged this, and has already gained the confidence of some 
of them, who have listened to his message and have been 
baptized. These are from among the higher classes of 
society. There is no mission at the place at present, and the 
Propagation Society have determined to establish one, and 
to send out two young men from this country for the pur- 
pose. Jackson and I, I hope, will be the two. He has 
settled with the Society some time ago, and was directed to 
find a companion if he could. So I have no doubt of being 
appointed, if I make application. He is to sail in September. 

Now dear , I have always looked to you as my 

mother and early teacher. To you I owe more than I can 
ever repay, more than I can well tell. I do hope you will 
pray for me, and then give meyour advice. I am still free, 
and will listen carefully to what you say. 

My own main argument is this, — we may, it is true, serve 
God, and shew our love to Christ, in one place as well as in 
another, (and 1 am trying to avoid the notion that by going 
out I shall be free from weakness and sin,) but no one else 
will go, so I will. There are plenty in England : there is 
grievous need there. Jackson is a first-rate fellow : I never 


knew so firm, so conscientious a man, that I liked so well. 
* * * I confess the feeling of my heart that most dis- 
tresses me is, that I cannot look forward with composure to 
the risk of his dying, and leaving me behind. But though 
in this I am " otherwise minded, God will I'eveal even this 
to me." 

Since if the whole plan were to fall through, and I were 
to remain in this country, it would be unpleasant that the 
idea should have got abroad, you will exercise your judgment 
and tell what I have said to whom you please. I shall write 
to no one else till I hear from you. 

Ever your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

Notice, reader, the honesty of this letter, how deter- 
mined the writer is to practise what he preaches, and 
not to ask any one to do what he is not prepared to do 
himself: notice his humility in being ready to go as 
second in command to a man three years his junior : 
notice his modesty in seeing no objection but his own 
unfitness: and above all notice the argument, which 
was the ground of all his subsequent course of action, 
" no one else will go, so I will." 

Here is another letter written to the same sister 
two days afterwards. 


Caius College, 
Monday, April 25, 185a. 

Deakest , 

I wrote hurriedly on Saturday night, and had not 
time to read over what I had written. I think there must 
have been many things which I ought to have said ; so now 
I take my chance of remembering them. 


First, T am anxious to hear from you, if you are well 
enough and strong enough to write, for I am defei'ring my 
absolute determination till I hear from you. 

I am very anxious to impress upon myself that this is 
not so great a sacrifice, as it once was, to go out as a Mis- 
sionary. There are many Europeans at Delhi ; and above 
all other wox'ldly comforts, I go out with a friend whom I 
highly esteem and value, and greatly love. 

My chief feeling about it all is that Christ needs ser- 
vants in various places : some in this country, and some 
elsewhere : and that the greatest want is abroad. It seems 
to me that England is bound to do all she can for her 
subjects abroad; and as othei's will not go, I will. The 
only thing, I think, which has prevented my doing so once 
and again, has been a tacit resolution not to put the case 
to myself as possible : for as soon as I did that, the case 
seemed clear. 

As to my qualifications for it: I must learn Persian 
and Hindustani, I suppose, but I have hardly found out 
yet what is to be done; but these things would have to bo 
learned by any one going there : so I am as good for the 
purpose as they. And as to the character of the Mahome- 
dans and Hindus one will have to deal with, eveiy one 
would have to learn that by experience. The only thing 
that seems deficient is my own religion, which I know is 
very weak : in that I seriously think I am far infei'ior to 
many others who might go out. But all I can say is, if no 
one else will go, I shall be better than nothing, and I do 
trust that as my day is so shall my strength be. 

Dear , you will think of me when I am gone; 

and we shall meet, I know we shall, in the kingdom above. 
What matter where we spend the remainder of our life 1 
The time is short : "it remaineth that they that have wives 
be as though they had none, &c." 

I heard a sermon last night on the text, " If any man 
will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up hia 


cross daily and follow Me." And I think this is my path. 
I never could swallow the notion of voluntary self-denial, 
as a discipline : but I think self-denial in the service of God 
and for an object is what we ought to practise. 

But I am gi'owing prosy, and it is getting late. 

Now don't think I have taken a mania on the subject : 
though these two letters have been mainly on this matter, 
yet I was out at dinner this evening, and took as much 
interest in a discussion about derivations of words as any 
one else. They said "wig" came from "periwig," and that 
from " perruque," and that from a Gothic Latin word " pel- 
lucus," and that from " pilus," Latin, a hair. 

Your very affectionate brother, 

C. F. M 

The following, to the same sister, was written about 
a week later. 


Caius College. Thursday night. 
Dearest , 

It is late, but I write a line to thank you for your 
very kind and excellent letter. 

I shall write, I dare say, to-morrow : but I may say that 
on consulting two of my best friends here, I find they are 
opposed to my going. Goodwin decidedly so: Hopkins, 
rather so. 

However it is for myself to decide. 

Your very affectionate brother, 

C. F. iM. 

I have allowed my own name to appear in the pre- 
ceding letter, and have not supplied the place with a 
blank, as I might have done, because the position which 
Mackenzie has here assigned to me as one of his ad- 


visers seems to give me a right to say a few words upon 
the question of the propriety of his leaving Cambridge 
as a Missionary. Mackenzie has stated that I was deci- 
dedly opposed to his going, and this is quite true. My 
opposition was in fact too decided, for it gave him the 
impression that I had not sufficiently considered the 
subject ; and I think when I told him that he must 
not go, I detected upon his countenance the nearest 
approach I ever saw to dissatisfaction. But my oppo- 
sition was based upon two grounds. In the first place 
I did not think that the Delhi mission was the best 
for him, even if he determined to go out as a Mission- 
ary ; his power of languages was not great, and the 
peculiar openness and simplicity of his character seemed 
to me not suitable for dealing with the accomplished 
civilized infidehty of well-educated natives. But this 
view did not carry to my mind so much weight as the 
argument derived from the positive advantage of his 
presence in Cambridge : this he was sure to under- 
estimate, but as a looker-on I thought it could hardly 
be over-estimated : it was not the removal of an ordi- 
nary man whose place could be easily filled ; but the 
loss of one who combined in himself a number of 
qualities, which made him to be of singular value and 
very hard to replace. Hence I still think that I did 
right in opposing his departure. By doing so I gained, 
as will be seen afterwards, greater influence in deciding 
his departure for South Africa. On that occasion I 
assented to his wish to go ; but it was only because 
I then found that the missionary spirit had laid hold 
upon him in an unmistakeable way, and that the ques- 


tion really was, not whether he should go at all, but 
whether he should go to that particular mission. 

The result of the representations made by his fa- 
mily and those of his intimate friends whom he con- 
sulted, was that he declined to offer himself as a Mis- 
sionary for Delhi ; but it will be seen from the next 
letter that, although declining at this time, he distinctly 
reserved to himself the right of going abroad on a 
future occasion. 


{To a sister.) 

Dear , 

Saturday Evening. 

You took my plan much as I expected. I have 
now to tell you that I have resolved not to go to Delhi. 
Whethei" 'twas right to distress you in Scotland, and at such 
a distance, before consulting College friends, I almost doubt ; 
but I half feared to make up my own mind and then have 
to bear the brunt of arguments against the plan, coming 
from home. I am afraid I have dishonourably thrown the 
pain on you, but I know you will not be inclined to blame 
me at present. 

The hopes expressed in your letter, that the work to be 
done at home is more important than the other, and that it is 
more adapted for me, were stated as facts by men on whom 
I could rely for judgment and honesty. And now the matter 
stands thus. A more suitable post abroad may spring up at 
a time when my ties of duty at home are less : in which case 
I shall consider myself at liberty to go. 

I cannot write more. Shew this to , next time you 

meet, though I have just written to her. 

Yours truly, 

C. F. M. 


After this letter Mackenzie dropped once more 
quietly into his round of duties. In a letter written 
probably in the May or June of this year, he says, 
" I don't wish that my projected plan should be 
thought of any more. I want you all to forget that 
it was proposed." And then he goes on to speak of his 
work at Haslingfield, and of a prize which he is busy 
in adjudging for proficiency in knowledge of the Church 

In the summer of this year he took up his abode, 
as in the previous one, at the schoolmaster's house in 
Haslingfield. Here is a letter which gives some ac- 
count of his proceedings. The reference to the College 
examinations shews that it belongs to June. 


{To a sister.) 

Haslingfield, Monday, the i^th. 
My dear , 

It's sorry I am to have been so long in writing. 
I am debating whether an apology or a confession will be 
best. I have been far from idle lately. Our College Exa- 
mination ended on Thursday week; the next day I came 
out here: and though under no actual pressure of engage- 
ments, yet there is always much to be done. 

One thing has taken up a good deal of my attention 
lately: a class of nearly thirty candidates for confirmation. 
The confirmation was held at the adjoining village on 
Friday last : and I confess I have been much interested in 
the young people. It is a very important age of course, but 
besides that I half feel that the respect for the rites of the 
Church in the Parish depends a good deal upon me. I 
think Mr Clark looks at his parishioners as individuals, 


eacli of wJiom he earnestly desires to be saved : I rather 
look upon this as part of the universal Church, and wish 
not only to benefit this generation, but to keep up the 
customs of the Church and to gain for her the love of her 
children. As it has happened this time, Mr Clark has 
been very unwell for three or four months, and thus the 
responsibility of improving well the minds of these young 
people has fallen on me. 

I have been trying very hard to induce them to come to 
the Holy Communion. You would be surprised if you knew 
how few do attend here, and none I think of the younger 
j)eople. If I could only break the ice this time with one or 
two, I should be abundantly satisfied : of course the more 
out of the twenty-eight the better, but I hardly hope for 
more than two or three. But that w^ould be a beginning. 

I have been delighted beyond measure by your last two 
letters : and would, I think, write twice a-day rather than 
lose your correspondence. So now you know how to get a 
letter out of me. Seriously, I regret much being so irre- 
gular in my duties of affection : and as I am in a course of 
general amendment, I shall hope to include this. 


I have arranged my days very methodically: three days 
a- week on one scheme, and three on another. My occu- 
pations are — 


Bible and concomitant studies, such as the 
study of the question of inspiration, 




All this falls between breakfast at eight, and dinner at six. 
After dinner I am on varieties. Logic, Shakspeare, History, 
&c., and I suppose letter- writing must come in then, for 


there is no other time, — which may partly account for my 
not "writing since coming here. 

One whole day last week was spent in hearing the 
Church Catechism for a prize, said with the strictest accu- 
racy. I was so tired at night. 

Your very loving brother, 

C. F. M. 

The following is to the same sister. 


Cai0S College, July ii, 1853. 
Deaeest , 

I torment myself from week to week, because I 

don't write to you. So as I have just finished a very 

kind sisterly letter from you, I think it kindest to myself, 

in the most selfish point of view, to sit down at once, and 

write to you. 

* * * * * 

We are indeed a fi-ail family, and here am I as strong 
as a horse, hardly sympathising with the rest of you. Cer- 
tainly sight goes a long way towards convincing one of the 
realities of things : I mean that when I come home and see 
you all, and see how far from well some of you are, I 
always feel more for you all, than when I am here, with 
work and amusements that have no association with home. 
I believe I feel more sympathy for a slight aihnent, a fit 
of ague, that will be gone in a week or a month, than I do 

for the continued sickness of a loved sister like ; I 

hope you will not think me a brute for all this; I believe 
it is natural, but that I have it in excess. 

I am at present an amphibious animal; partly resident 
at Haslingfield, and a little in College. The Long Vacation 
work has begun ; that is to say, the Students have begun to 
come into residence to work, and the Chapel service must 
be kept up. The tutor has a Church of his own to attend 


to, and is wisely afraid of over excitement on Sundays : so 

he takes the service in Chapel through the week, and I 

on Sundays. This brings me into Cambridge on Saturday 

evening. I go out to Haslingfield for the services, and 

return to College again. Yesterday I found no more serious 

consequence than an inclination for bed at about 10 o'clock, 

and I expect to be able to go on with this as long as is 



Also I must make a stay of two days at Canterbury, 
to see the last of Jackson before his going to India. I 
told you, I think, of his having found a companion to go 
to India with him : Hubbard by name. 

The October term came, and Mackenzie resumed 
his College work : the only letter that has come into 
my hands is one bearing a post- mark of December 6 : 
from this 1 give one short extract. 


{To a sister.) 
* * * * * 

I cannot tell you how much I feel the good of having 
sisters to be writing to me and thinking of me and 
pi-aying fen- me in this busy place. It is a slippery road 
we are upon, and we might almost despair, were it not 
for God's gracious encouragements : it is our Father's good 
pleasure to give us the kingdom, and I do confidently hope 
that we shall indeed reach that happy place where all evil 
is excluded. 

In January 1854 Mackenzie was Moderator, as I 
have already mentioned ; and the hard work brought 
upon him by this office, in addition to his ordinary 


routine of business, will probably account for a total 
dearth of letters to his family. Nothing has come into 
my hands belonging to the early months of this year ; 
but the following letter will shew that as soon as the 
Easter vacation allowed him to absent himself from 
Cambridge, he again betook himself to his Haslingfield 
lodgings, and endeavoured to realize for himself the 
character of the parochial Clergyman. The letter is 
to his eldest sister. 


Haslingfield, A^ml 12, 1854. 

Other things are going on tolerably smoothly. I am 
growing more methodical in my habits, and I am try- 
ing hard to be determined and fixed in character : for I 
think I am easily led. At least I very easily form my 
opinions according to the company I am in : or if I do 
not form my opinions afresh, I am very apt to seem to agree 
with the person I am with. (A friend of mine sometimes 
says of another, who has this weakness to a considerable 
degree, that he smells of the person lie has been last with.) 
I have been trying to overcome this, and fi.nd it beginning 
to grow easier. 

Term ended about a week ago, and I have been rusti- 
cating here, enjoying the quiet of the place very much. 
Though I spoil it by often having to go into Cambridge, 
where the associations of the place make me feel as if it 
were term-time again. 


I have heard from Jackson from Delhi. He had just 
arrived, and looked round him with very great interest at 
the scene of his future labours. He says the two natives 


of most note among those wlio have been baptized are very 
intelligent, and lie wishes to gain a few other native con- 
verts that they may not stand alone. He says how much 

he would like or myself to be with him, but speaks 

of his companion Hubbard as a great comfort. 

I have seen lately a journal of Archdeacon Merriman, 
the Archdeacon at the Cape of Good Hope ; very interest- 
ing reading I thought. If you can lay your hands on it, 
I think that you will like it. 

It will be easily believed that so earnest a feeling 
concerning the duty of missionary work as that which 
was called forth by his thoughts on the Delhi mission 
would not be likely altogether to slumber in a heart so 
honest and single as was that of Mackenzie. The prin- 
ciple involved in those emphatic words of his, " No one 
else will go, so I will," coupled with his very modest 
view of his own usefulness in Cambridge, could hardly 
fail sooner or later to come to the surface, and impel 
him to missionary enterprise. How he was led, in God's 
wise providence, to take the great step, will be seen in 
the following chapter. 



On November 30th, S. Andrew's Day, 1853, were con- 
secrated at Lambeth Parish Church, the first Bishops 
of the newly formed dioceses of Graham's Town and 
Natal, in South Africa. These two dioceses had pre- 
viously formed a portion of the diocese of Cape Town. 
The zealous Bishop of this enormous diocese, having 
made a very remarkable journey through its whole 
extent, and taken a measure of its spiritual necessities, 
returned to Ensfland in 1852, and succeeded in makincf 
arrangements for the subdivision of the diocese, and 
for the maintenance of two new Bishops. Dr Colenso, 
who was chosen to be Bishop of Natal, left England 
soon after his consecration, in company with the Bishop 
of Cape Town ; he made a rapid inspection of his dio- 
cese, which he embodied in his interesting narrative, 
entitled "Ten Weeks in Natal," and then returned 
home, arriving in England, May 27, 1854, for the pur- 
pose of pleading the cause of his diocese, with the 
advantage of some personal knowledge of its wants, 
and obtaining assistants in his work. 

Just about the same time, arrived another colonial 


Bishop in England. On tlie same page in the " Co- 
lonial Church Chronicle" which announces the arrival 
of the Bishop of Natal, I find also the following notice. 
"The Bishop of New Zealand has reached England 
after an absence of twelve years from his native land. 
This brief period, marked by hitherto unexampled 
labours to spread the Gospel, and to found the Church 
among heathen races, must at some future time be- 
come an epoch in the history of the Church of England. 
And the record will not be inglorious, at least if wis- 
dom, prudence, untiring courage, rare self-devotion, — 
all directed with a single eye to the honour and glory 
of our blessed Kedeemer, — are worthy of a remem- 
brance in the annals of mankind." The feelinof excited 
in the minds of Enghsh people by the news of Bishop 
Selwyn's return was very striking and also very cheer- 
ing to every Christian heart. The missionary was ex- 
pected with something like the feeling which belongs 
to the return of a great general from a successful 
campaign; and the mind of England was probably 
more generally turned to missionary thoughts, and more 
open to impression concerning the great work of evan- 
gelizing the world, than it ever had been at any pre- 
vious period. Of course Bishop Selwyn was seized upon 
to speak and preach upon all possible occasions, and 
few who heard him will ever forget the simple and 
modest manliness of his eloquence. In no place was 
he more heartily welcomed or more thoroughly appre- 
ciated than in his own University, and in November 
1854 he preached a course of four sermons in the Uni- 
versity pulpit as select preacher. 



These four sermons were published at the request 
of the Vice-Chancel lor, under the title, The Worh of 
Christ in the World. I shall venture to extract from 
them the concluding passage : it is striking to read, — 
how much more striking to hear ! 

"And if," said the Bishop, "it please God to call 
you to a more peaceful lot, to the work of the ministry 
in England, — in the colonies, — or in the mission-field, 
you will learn to think all things light, which you can 
do or suffer for the cause of Christ, when you see what 
the service is which the world exacts. And yet our 
work also has no narrow compass. I go from hence, 
if it be the will of God, to the most distant of all 
countries — to the place, where God, in answer to the 
prayers of his Son, has given Him the heathen for His 
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for 
His possession. There God has planted the standard 
of the cross, as a signal to His Church to fill up the 
intervening spaces, till there is neither a spot of earth 
which has not been trodden by the messengers of sal- 
vation, nor a single man to whom the Gospel has not 
been preached. Fill up the void. Let it be no longer 
a reproach to the Universities that they have sent so 
few missionaries to the heathen. The Spirit of God is 
ready to be poured upon all flesh ; and some of you are 
His chosen vessels. Again, I say. Offer yourselves to 
the Primate of our Church. The voice of the Lord is 
asking, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go with us?' 
May every one of you who intends, by God's grace, to 
dedicate himself to the ministry, answer at once : * Here 
am I, send me.'" 


I now return to Mackenzie. In the autumn of 
1854, I think in the beginning of October, the Bishop 
of Natal proposed to him that he should go out to 
Natal as archdeacon. So far as I can remember he 
had not made known to his friends that any decided 
change had taken place in his views with regard to 
home work, but I suppose that his previous conduct 
with regard to Delhi pointed him out as a man wlio 
might not improbably accept a foreign appointment if 
offered to him ; indeed from one intimate friend he 
had extracted a promise, on relinquishing the Delhi 
scheme, that any fitting opening which might after- 
wards occur should be mentioned to him. In the latter 
part of the summer of this year he spent a few days 
with my family and myself at Felixstow in Suffolk, but 
I do not remember that he conversed with me upon 
the probability of his going out as a missionary. How- 
ever, the proposal came from the Bishop of Natal, and 
the following letter shews the manner in which he re- 
ceived it. The letter is to his eldest sister ; it is un- 
dated, but internal evidence refers it to the month of 
October. He speaks in it of having been "named for 
the Caj)ut." The Caput, or more fully, the Caput Se- 
natus, was a body consisting of five persons, upon whom 
devolved the duty of approving of Graces before they 
were submitted to the Senate ; it was abolished in 1856. 
I find by reference to the records of the University that 
Mackenzie was not only nominated a member of the 
Caput on October 12, but was actually elected at a Con- 
gregation holden on October 18. I cannot tell when he 
resigned ; Mr Romilly, the late Registrary of the Uni- 


versity, informs me that " tlie jji-actice of the Univer- 
sity never was to make a second election in the year 
after the resignation of a man duly elected : so there is 
no record of Mackenzie's resignation." It will be seen, 
however, that the date of the letter must be certainly 
subsequent to October 12. We are thus brought very 
near to the month of November, in which the Bishop 
of New Zealand preached ; of which more presently, 


Caids College, Monday. 

Dear , 

Read tlie enclosed at some quiet time when you 
can command it. 

C. F. M. 

A year and a half ago I was asked to go to Delhi, 
and on the advice of most of my friends, I declined. 

Now I have another offer. The Bishop of Natal (one 
of tlie two new Bishopricks at the Cape) wants me to go 
with him as Archdeacon, paid to be second to him in the 

The Bishoj-) was with "W. B. Hopkins on Friday, and 
Hopkins told him he might ask me, at any rate, to go. 
So I conclude that Hopkins is ftivourable. I shall write, 
however, and ascertain this point. 

I have consulted Goodwin, and he says that much as 
he would regret my going, he must advise me to go. 

My own feelings are very strong in favour. For the 
last two or three months I have quite had my mind made 
up, to go somewhere abroad, as soon as home claims left me 
free. When I left this place in August, I fully intended to 
have spoken to you on the subject : but other plans, you 
knov^, j^re vented me ; for I did not wish to complicate the 
matter, and I should have thought the scheme we spoke 
of, a tie to this country of considerable strength. 


But now I look xxpou that as laid aside for the present ; 
so tliat I think other ideas should return with full force. 
To neglect one way of being useful, because another way 
may become feasible, would be absurd. 

My ijositive reasons are simply that there is difficulty 
in getting men to go out; and I have no reason to give 
against going ; therefore I ought to go. Like labovirers in 
a field, each should go where he is most wanted. 

I look upon Goodwin's approval as most important. 
He was so strong against the other, that his sincerity and 
disinterestedness are proved. He does not deny that the 
College will miss me, but he says he could more easily find 
a man to fill my place here than one willing and able to 
do the work there. 

% * * * * 

I have only a few minutes now before the post goes. 

I have so far made up my mind to go, that I shall 
at once disengage myself from some duties which would 
interfere with my going. I was named for the Caput a 
day or two ago, but by declining at once, I shall give 
less trouble than if I were to wait for a week or two : I 
shall therefore do so. Also I shall at once find some one to 
take the office of Examiner in the Senate-House next Janu- 
ary \ I should have told you that the Bishop will sail in 
January or February, and would like me to go with him. 
* * * * -» 

I said I had almost made up my mind: I have not a 
shadow of doubt of your approving : indeed, I feel sure that 
this opening and my accepting are but the fulfilment of 
your hopes since I wrote about Delhi. I am more anxious 

to hear what says : but I have just read over his letter 

to me about Delhi, and though the remai-ks apply nearly as 
well to this as to that, yet I cannot say they change my 
views. Still, if he has anything to say, I shall be glad to 

^ His place was taken by Mr Ferrers of Caius College. 


liear from liim, most thankful indeed for anything that will 
help me to come to a right final conclusion. I shall write 
this evening more full particulars of what I know already of 
the work. 

It will be observed that the above letter throws 
a considerable responsibility upon the editor of this 
memoir. In explanation of the advice which I thought 
it right to give to my dear friend, I have only to say 
this. It seemed to me quite clear, and I think the 
tone of his letters will prove, that Mackenzie's mind 
was fixed upon missionary work. The Delhi scheme 
had been abandoned in deference to the opinion of his 
friends, and here was the same desire breaking out 
again. Might not his friends, if they still insisted upon 
keeping him, be fighting against God ? I confess that 
when he mentioned the subject to me a second time, 
I thought that I had no right to oppose upon the 
general principle, but only upon the conviction that 
the particular sphere of missionary work to which he 
was looking was unsuited for him. Now it seemed to 
me, that if go he must, the Natal opening was a very- 
suitable one. I thought that his fine temper and ir- 
resistible loveableness would tend to smooth the diffi- 
culties, to which an infant Church in a colony must 
inevitably be subject ; and so far as Heathen work was 
concerned, I knew that he could condescend to the 
simplest of his fellow-creatures, and I thought that he 
would be happier in planning missions amongst the 
untaught Kafirs, than in dealing with the objections 
of acute Hindus. It will have been seen that in the 
first instance, rightly or wrongly, I did my best to 


keep him for what seemed to me to be peculiarly his 
sphere of work; I did not dare to act in the same 
manner a second time. How much it cost me to think 
of losing him I will not say. 

For the present, however, the offer of the Bishop 
of Natal was declined, apj)arently in deference to the 
wishes of his family. The immediate cause of the 
ultimate determination to go to Natal is to be found 
in the sermons of the Bishop of New Zealand al- 
ready referred to. At these sermons, it was noticed 
by Mackenzie's friends, that, contrary to his practice, 
he was regularly present. He usually, as we have 
seen, spent the whole Sunday at Haslingfield, walking 
home in the evening : but during the month of No- 
vember he was to be seen each Sunday afternoon in 
Great S. Mary's Church, and his intimate friends, who 
knew all that had passed, concluded that his attend- 
ance was significant. Certainly to a mind that was at 
all leaning towards missionary enterprise, nothing could 
be more likely to give the final movement than the 
sermons of Bishop Selwyn : eloquent and forcible in 
themselves, they were a hundred times more eloquent 
and forcible Vv^hen regarded as the testimony of a man, 
who had himself done so much, and done it so nobly. 
The next letter will shew their effect upon Mackenzie's 
mind. Like the last, it is to his eldest sister. 


Caius College, 

Monday, Dec. il. 

My dear , 

I hope, thongli you may be surprised, yet that you 
will not be seriously sorry, when I say that I have recon- 


siderecl my decision about Natal. I have offered to go with 
the Bishop iu the capacity he proposed before, and I have 
been accepted. So now the whole thing is fixed, and I shall 
sail with him in February. 

Soon after coming to the determination of staying here, 
I began to doubt the rightness of that conclusion, and then 
Bishop Selwyn, of New Zealand, preached in the University 
pulpit in November, and he revived in my mind the con- 
viction, that a man's going from home is like a branch being 
cut from a tree to be planted somewhere else, and that the 
other branches will spread, and very soon no gap will be 
seen. At this time the Bishop of Natal wrote to me about 
another man, a friend of mine here, and asked if I thought 
he would be a good person to go. I wrote to say, I thought 
he would be a good person, if he were free to go ; • and it 
ended in this man and myself discussing his case, and our 
deliberations ended, rightly I believe, in his declining. Then 
I wrote to the Bishop, that if he was still free to offer it to me, 
I would accept; and he writes me that he most heartily 
welcomes me as his brother and fellow-labourer in the work. 

In all this I have acted on my own responsibility, hav- 
ing changed my mind without the advice of any earthly 
friend: but I do humbly trust, that what I have done is 
according to the will of my heavenly Master. 

So far I have spoken of myself, though I have been of 
course speaking to you. Now comes — — 's case. She 
writes me that — • — • recommends a warmer climate. Natal 

is a beautiful climate, and I fancy would not wish for 

a better escort than mine. So I am writing by this same 
post to propose to her to come with me in February. 

I hardly know what more to say. On the point of going 
or staying, I consulted no one; but on the point of Natal 
or elsewhere I again consulted Goodwin, and he is most 
clear on that head. So I willingly agreed. 


Dear , good bye for the present. Commend me to 

• 's kind tlionglits. Commend me to God's care. 

Your very affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 
Of course tliei'e need be no secret about my going : it is 

The next letter is to another sister : it gives no ad- 
ditional information, but is too characteristic to be 


Caius College, 

Dec. II, 1S54. 
Dearest , 

It is long since I have written to you, and though 

I began a letter a few days ago, on receiving one from , 

which spoke of your being again in Edinbui-gh, yet I did 
not get it finished, being interrupted; and the attempt found 
its way into the fire. 

And now dear I have something to tell you, which 

I fear will vex you. I suppose it may as well come out at 
once : I have made up my mind to go abroad. I am going 
to the colony of Natal, with the Bishop of Natal, to be his 
second in command; to help him to put in order what needs 
arranging there, and to commence schemes which may, I 
trust by the blessing of God, lead to the conversion to civi- 
lization, to Christianity, to happiness here, and to the hope 
of glory, many of the simple natives of the place. 

I shall have to go in February; but on that very account 
I must see you all for a while before that time. So I pro- 
pose coming to Edinburgh on the 23rd. 

I hope you will be enabled to look at this move of mine 
in the right view, as a short separation that we may be 
united for ever; as a noble work with which my Master has 
entrusted me, for the due performance of which you must 
help me with sympathy and prayer. My dear , I 


used to form my judgment a good deal by yours : those days 
are gone by : but it will be unspeakably comforting to me, 
if we can heartily join in giving up our own will to God's, 
and rejoice in that which may best tend to set foi'th His 
glory and to hasten His kingdom. 

It is late, and I have other letters to write. 
Good bye, dearest, 

Believe me to be, now as ever, 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The next is also to a sister, and inserted for the 
same reason as the last. 


Caius College, 

Dec. II, 1854. 

My dear , 

I have been very remiss in not acknowledging 
your letter. I can speak to you however on the subject to 
which it refers when we meet, as I hope we shall before 
long, for I am looking forward to being in Scotland at 
Christmas this year. 

The fact is, I have given up my Examinership this year, 
because I have been asked to go out to the colony of Natal 
with the Bishop, as his second in command, to help him to 
make arrangements in his diocese, at its first starting; and 
I have accepted the offer. It is only proposed that I should 
go out for five years, b\it though of course I may come 
home before that time, or after it, yet I have at present no 
intention of coming back, except perhaps for a short visit. 

This will, I believe, surprise you as much as any one; 
yet I feel confident it will not distress you. The Lord hath 
need of him, is a sufiicient answer to all questionings, Why 
should I go? My reason is very simple. There is in the 
colonies a lack of men; there is none at home. Therefore 


let all that are free go cheerfully to that other part of the 
field, where their labour is m6re wanted than here. 

This is a very simple view of the case ; one which I be- 
lieve will at once commend itself to you, even though the 
fulfilling of the duty it brings were to yon like the cutting 
off a right hand or the plucking out a right eye. 

Please tell what is in this letter, and say that as 

I hope to be down so soon I may perhaps not wi-ite to him, 
as I should certainly have done, had not you been in his 
house. I hope he will not think me utterly mad; I hardly 
hope he will approve of the step I have taken : a step, con- 
cerning which I have no hesitation myself, having delibe- 
rately arrived at my present conclusion after more or less 
deliberation during two years. 

* * * * * 

My acquaintances in Cambridge, of whom I have a 
goodly store, are a good deal taken by surprise by my re- 
solution : my best friends congratulate me. . 

Now dear it is late, and to-morrow evening I shall 

spend with my Bishop in London : so I must not be sleejjy, 
or perhaps he will say I may stay at home. 
In short, good night. 

Believe me to be, now as ever, 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The following short letter speaks for itself. 


(To a Sister.) 

Caids College, 

Dec. 19, 1854. 

My own dear , 

I cannot tell you how your letter affected me. It 
was one of my fix'st thoughts when 1 wrote to in 


October, How would you feel it ? and now I see that, bitter 
as the parting may be, yet yoxi are supported by Him who 
is a siu'e Refuge in time of trouble. 

Let us remember that the time is short. It remaineth 
that we must be separated from every earthly tie, in order 
that such bonds as are holy may be renewed. 

I shall not say more just now. I shall hope to see you 
on Saturday. 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The result then was, that it was finally determined 
that Mackenzie should go out with the Bishop of Natal, 
in the character of Archdeacon. His own family did 
not offer any strong opposition, indeed opposition was 
manifestly useless ; many of his Cambridge friends 
acquiesced in the scheme, seeing how clearly his own 
mind was made up; but some expressed their opinion 
very strongly that his proper sphere of action was 
Cambridge, and that he ought not to move. In one 
point all agreed, namely, that his departure from Cam- 
bridge was as simple and genuine a sacrifice of self 
as it was possible for a man to offer upon the altar 
of God. Others will not go, so I tvill, — this principle, 
and no love of roaming, no weariness of home quiet, 
no enthusiastic belief in his own power of working 
missionary miracles, took him away from England and 
gave him to South Africa. Of the scene of his future 
labours, more will be said hereafter. 

The Christmas of 1854 was spent in Edinburgh, 
with his family, and it was soon arranged that the 
invalid sister, referred to in page 90, should go as his 
companion to South Africa. He mentioned it to me, 


if I remember aright, as a singular support to liim, and 
a sign of the correctness of his choice, that after having 
made up his mind to go to Natal, the next post brought 
him a letter informing him that a warmer climate had 
been prescribed for this invalid sister. 

On his return from Scotland, there was plenty of 
work to be done in the Vv^ay of preparation for an 
early departure. I have only one letter which belongs 
to this period. Here it is. 


{To a Sister.) 

Caius College, 

Jan. ic), 55. 
My dear , 

Your present \ reachiug me a few minutes before 
I left , went at once into my jiocket. So when morn- 
ing dawned, before we got to London, and I could 

read, each to himself, for there were others in the carriage, 
our morning psalms. 

I cannot help blaming myself for the weakness of our 
parting. For surely it is a glorious prospect, that is be- 
fore me, doing the work of my Master, (faithfully, I hope,) 
here, and waiting for His return. The idea has sometimes 
crossed my mind, if in heaven we have work to do for Him, 
(as doubtless we shall have,) still shall we not look back on 
the work we might have done for Him here, and which we 
have neglected ? For this time will never come again. We 
may serve Him then faithfully for the future, but the past 
— this world which will then be past will never come 
again; and as our love will be so much warmer, so our 
sorrow for neglected opportunities of serving Him will be 

^ A small Prayer-Book to carry in a waistcoat pocket. 


the keener, if indeed sorrow can be tliere. I felt something 
like this on leaving school to come to College : though a 
new sphere of usefulness was opened before me, it never could 
make up for the one that I left; and now I feel something 
of the same kind : great as are the means of serving Him 
to which he has now called me, I have had great means 
here, and these opportunities I have too often neglected. 
The future has its own responsibilities which will corre- 
spond with its opportunities, the past is gone. These 
thoughts, at such a change of life as the present, seem to 
me to be presages of the thoughts that will vex one on a 
deathbed, or perhaps beyond the grave. 

I must stop for the present. When I write again, it will 
be, I dare say, in a more hopeful strain. 

I have made out the accounts of the Board of Education, 
have preached my last sermons at Haslingfield, and am ad- 
vertised to preach next Sunday in one church, while the 
Bishop is preaching in another. 

It -was eventually determined that the Bishop of 
Natal and his mission party should sail from Liverpool 
in the beginning of March in the barque, Jane 
Morice, which was prepared specially for their accom- 
modation, and made as convenient as so small a vessel 
could be made for so large a party. A brother-in-law 
of the editor of this memoir, residing at Oxton, near 
Birkenhead, invited Archdeacon Mackenzie and his 
sister to take up their abode at his house while the 
preparations for the voyage were in progress ; this they 
gladly consented to do, and I offered to accompany 
them. Owing to this arrangement, I had the pleasure 
and privilege of seeing the very last of my dear and 
honoured friend. 


He was perfectly cheerful, as lie always was ; and 
several times he said to me, as we were busily engaged 
in Liverpool, making arrangements for the voyage, 
" I cannot help thinking how different all this would 
have seemed, if you had not come with me." A few 
days before the sailing of the Jane Morice, there was 
a farewell service in Trinity Church, Birkenhead ; and 
on March 7 the missionary party embarked. 

The parting scene is strongly impressed upon my 
mind. We waited upon the pier at Liverpool for a 
steam-tug which was to convey the party to the vessel, 
lying in the river. The party was all assembled ; the 
Bishop with his family, the Archdeacon and his sister, 
two clergymen, a German professor of languages, several 
missionary ladies, two catechists, a farmer and his wife, 
a few labourers and mechanics, and several boys, in 
all about 30 or 40 persons. It was a solemn quiet 
scene. There was plenty of time for last words, and 
the moments seemed very precious to us. At length 
the steam-tug came alongside ; the party was soon 
on board, and the last thing which caught my eye was 
the happy countenance of the boy from the Cambridge 
Industrial School, who was eating an orange with all 
the appearance of entire absence of care. 

I may refer the reader to page 2, for a short letter 
written by Mackenzie at this period to his eldest sister, 
in which he acknowledges gratefully all the care and 
kindness he had received at her hands ; I here add 
•another, written on the day before the sailing of the 
JaTie Morice to another sister equally dear to him. 



{To a Sister.) 

OxTON Hill, Birkenhead, 

March 6, 1855. 
Deaeest and sweetest , 

We sail to-morrow; so I write to-day to say Good 
bye, and to bid you clieer your lieart. as I know you are 
doing. We are, at least I can speak for myself, and I be- 
lieve will say the same, in the most cheerful and happy 

frame of mind. We have a good deal to do, which seems to 
occupy our minds, and the extreme kindness we have re- 
ceived from our friends here beggars all desci'iption. 
* * * * * 

So you are getting better, dear . If the accounts of 

your health are good, it will be the hest news, I speak 
advisedly, that I can hear from home : I mean the news 
that will give me most selfish pleasure : of course one 
ought to feel that the hest news is, the success of the Master's 

Ever dear , 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The voyage of the Jane Morice was most pro- 
sperous, and as little unpleasant to the mission party 
as so long a voyage in so small a vessel could be. 
The Archdeacon shall tell his own tale of his life on 
board ship in a letter written to the editor of this 


The Jane Morice, 

March 15, 1855. 
Lat. 37". Long. 13". W. 

Dear Harvey, 

My first letter after parting is, I think, due to you. 
Thanks many for your continued kindnesses in Cheshire 


not that your late tiudnesses Lave obliterated former ones 
from my mind^ but our intercourse lately has been more 
tender and brotherly, I think, than before. 

But you will probably care more for some account of 
what has been going on, than for any long accounts of my 

This is the eighth day of our voyage, and it has seemed 
both long and short. I was frequently sick during the first 
two days, and hardly touched a thing : but I am thankful to 
say that I had no headache, and was able to run about as 
much as ever : this was lucky : for with the assistance of a 

lady, Miss , (or rather she with my help,) waited on the 

steerage passengers, neai'ly all of whom were ill, and all 
very downhearted. It was hard work, but has ended in 
making a very friendly feeling between the two parts of the 
ship. You would have laughed if you had seen me, in a 
little cabin with four berths, quite dai-k ; I making the bed 
for some person, man or woman, who sits upon a box talking 
Suffolk : or standing outside the ship-kitchen begging the 
black cook for some " fresh water boil " to make arrow-root, 
(I can make it famously now) : or going from one part 

of the ship to another, helping Miss to walk on the 

slippery decks, each carrying two cups of arrow-root, I with 
a pocket filled with a brandy-flask, a tumbler, a bottle of 
raspberry- vinegar, and two eggs. Then we had great con- 
fusion about the luggage. And besides, I have been down 
in the hold seeing the stores weighed out to the steerage 
passengers; and in the morning I am either running for the 
breakfast for the children, or holding one while the nurse 
dresses another; and we are together keeping the other two 

I write these particulars, that you may see how fortu- 
nate it is that I had not mounted my official coat before 
leaving England. On the whole I have selfishly enjoyed 
the voyage very much. There has been plenty to do, and 
I have had strength to do it. 



We have had short morning and evening prayers in the 
cabin, and in the steerage, every day. On Sunday morning 
we had a short service. 


This is the first day on which I have begun any work for 
Natal, namely, the grammar for an hour this morning. I have 
told the lads that they, and any others that like, may read with 
me for an hour in the morning : we are to begin to-morrow. 
I go to bed always at ten, and lately have not got up till 
seven; the fact is, one's nights wei'e broken at first, and 
even now I think the motion of the vessel injures one's rest. 
We have had a capital run so far. The wind was against 
us on the second day as we came down the Channel, but on 
the Thursday night a fine breeze sprang up, which lasted 
till about yesterday, and has brought us well on our way. 
One night I got up at about three, and walked on the deck 
till four, enjoying the magnificence of the scene : fine waves 
foaming beside us, and the ship breasting them famously. 

It is difficult to give you any idea of our jiarty without 
being personal. 


Our day now is as follows. I get up between six and 
seven, and at seven I have the four lads to read the Bible; 
at eight the steerage passengers breakfast, and the cabin 
passengers begin to emerge from their cabins at the smell of 
cocoa, which comes hot and excellent from the kitchen. Till 
breakfast, which is nominally at nine, but is ofter nearer 
ten, we sit and read or wait on deck. Breakfast consists of 
cofiee, bread baked that morning, toasted captain's biscuits, 
cold saltish beef, and perhaps a fowl or a duck or a tongue. 
Immediately after breakfast we have prayers on deck, not 
the full morning service, but parts of it: I read, and the 
Bishop gives a ten minutes' lecture on some part of the second 
lesson. Then we have our Zulu class, in which we have 
read the fifth chapter of S. Matthew, besides a good deal of 


grammar. Then, we play for a time : (I often go up the 
shrouds, or arrauge some of the things which the Bishop has 
entrusted to me, or heal up an incipient quarrel amongst 
the steerage, or take a turn at the wheel, or run up to the 
maiu-top yard) : or else woi'k at the Zulu till dinner-time, 
three o'clock, often four. Dinner consists of soup, pair of fowls 
or ducks, or some mutton, pork, or corned beef, and a pudding. 
After dinner we are on deck again till tea, about eight; 
then prayers in the cabin and steerage separately, with a 
hymn ; and then reading, or writing, (as now,) in the cabin, 
in nearly perfect silence, or sitting on deck, admiring the 
stars: I never do this latter. Then at ten talking is for- 
bidden, and before eleven we are all in our berths. I find 
I lie most steadily on my back; I learnt this from a tin 
case of arrow-root, which used always to tumble over until 
laid on its larger face. It is close upon eleven : so I must 
stop. We ai'e now just passing S. Antonio, one of the Cape 
Verd Islands. 

March 28. You see how seldom I take up my pen, and 
for how short a time. We are now in lat. 11": yet the 
day has been very cool, except in the direct rays of the sun. 
We have an awning, stretching forward from the hurricane 
cabin, so as to j)rotect us from the sun. We are getting on 
famously: we ran 200 miles between noon on the 26th 
and noon on the 27th, and about as much in the next 
twenty-four hours. 

The Zulu gets much easier. We are in the 7th chapter 
of S. Matthew now. The grammar is very good. 

We are longing to be at Natal ; not so much, I believe 
honestly, on account of the annoyances of shipboard, as that 
we may get to work. I suspect the affairs of the mission 
are rather at a stand-still for want of us. 

April 16. Lat. 20", S. Long. 29" or 30", W. We have a 
vessel in sight a-head, and hope to send letters by it. We 
are still progressing in the most favourable manner, and 
hope to make the voyage in about ten weeks. 


* * * * * 

During this liot weather we, the gentlemen, have been 
enjoying a new mode of bath. There is a fire-engine on 
board, which is used every morning for floodiog the decks 
in the opei'ation of washing them : there is no nozzle, but 
an oi)en tube an inch and a half in diameter : this is turned 
ujDon us, and the result may be conceived better than de- 
scribed. Another more refined enjoyment we have had in 
these tropical regions. The sunsets have been most gor- 
geous, and the sunrisings even better. Yesterday and to- 
day many of us were up at a little after five feasting our 
eyes for an hour or more. I forgot, strange to say, to m.en- 
tion, that I am writing with Mrs Goodwin's pen, which is 
excellent. My best and kindest remembrances to her. 
-» * * * * 

As for myself, I have not a shadow of regret at the 
change of occupation : on the contrary, I am full of thanks 
to Him who gave me the good will, as I cannot help regard- 
ing it, and gave me strength to carry out the j)urpose, and 
has so fully recompensed me for any sacrifice. I cotdd not 
help thinking last night, if there were nothing else than the 
increased pleasure of singing the hymns in our service, 
thinking of the words all the time, (a habit which I began 
in your church, I think,) I should have richly gained. This 
last paragraph I have written, as jom will believe, to en- 
courage others who may be thinking of coming out. 
* * * * * 

I give the conclusion of the voyage from Miss 
Mackenzie's journal. 

May 20th. Yesterday morning we were roused very 
early by being told the land of Natal was in sight. For 
many days previously we had been nearly becalmed, an 
unusual occurrence on this coast so near the Cape; but a 
strong and favourable breeze had now sprung up and we 
had made more than 200 miles during the last twenty-four 


hours. The coast was a very pleasant sight, rising in hills, 
and increasing in beauty as the siin rose, and the lights 
became varied. There were dark woods running along the 
shore, and green patches of underwood on the rising ground. 
There was a general feeling of joyous thankfulness among 
all, for our voyage throughout has been a most prosperous 
and peaceful and happy one ; no storms to alarm, no sickness 
among the party, and all has been harmony; the few neces- 
sary discomforts of so long a stay on shipboard being nearly 
all forgotten amidst the many blessings of the present, 
and hopes of the future, when our duties and occupations 
are begun. I myself felt a little regret at the even tenour 
of our life being ended, and the pleasant intercoui'se and 
constant accessibility to any one whom I wished to speak 
to, being changed to the usual restraints of life, and the 
busy world ; but in this feeling my brother was the only one 
who sympathised with me. 

We made very slow progress this day, but were so close 
to land that we did not feel the monotony as we had done 
in the midst of the ocean ; but to the Bishop the delay was 
very trying, as he hoped to cross the bar (which is passable 
only at high tide) in the evening, and got ready to go to 
Durban and officiate this forenoon. In the evening a rocket 
was sent up to announce oiu' arrival and give wai-uing to 
the pilot: but it was not seen, and he did not arrive till 
eleven a.m. I wish I could write in the glowing strain 
I could have done at that time of day; the land looked so 
beautiful, the rising hills so refreshing to our eyes, the sun 
was so bright and warm, and the sea so smooth, the air so 
balmy, while the whole service for the day was so suitable 
to our excited feelings; and I believe all joined with heart 
and voice in the 103rd Psalm, ascribing praise and blessing 
to God for all His mercies, which the Bishop took for the 
subject-matter of an excellent short sermon he gave us. 

About four P.M. we crossed the bar, where the waves 
roared and broke with white foam; but within Durban bay 


it was like a lake, tlie water quite green and placid, and the 
banks most beautiful and covered with evergreens and flow- 
ering shrubs. 

The Bishop went on shore and is to return to-morrow, 
when he has made arrangements for the accommodation of 
his large party ; and we shall then take a final leave of 
the good Jane Morice, the Captain and all the crew. The 
recollection of the time passed on board her, and of this my 
first voyage, will ever be one of the bright points in my life. 
The quiet to-night, while we are lying at anchor, seems 
very sti-ange, and the ship looks unlike herself with all her 
sails furled; and I doubt not the sailors are enjoying the 
unwonted luxury of undisturbed sound sleep, which indeed 
will be equally welcomed by most of the party. I feel 
confident all will unite in private, as they have done in 
public prayer, in thanking God for all the blessings He has 
vouchsafed us, and for His i:)rotecting care of us during the 

On reaching Natal the Archdeacon committed to 
paper some miscellaneous reflections upon the voyage. 
I subjoin a few extracts. 

May 20, 1855. Sunday. After a most prosperous voyage 
of seventy-four days from Liverpool, we are now lying in 
the harbour at Durban. Before writing what I have to say 
about the voyage, I wish to record my strong feeling of the 
very great mercies we have received during this time from 
the hand of our most gracious Father, both in outward pro- 
tection and comfort, and in the pleasures of kind and Chris- 
tian society. 

There are not many facts to be recorded of the voyage, 
that bear upon the interests of the Mission. Most of the 
members of the Mission-party have devoted a good deal of 
attention to the stixdy of the Zulu language: the eflPect of 
which has been a certain amount of acquaintance with the 
regular forms of the grammar, (very little progress has been 


made in tlie knowledge of the idioms,) and a translation of 
S. Matthew, made by tlie American missionaries, has been 
read through, and m^ost of the constructions thoroughly un- 
derstood. In this work the missionaries have been instructed 
by the Bishoj), who has given up a good deal of time for the 
purpose : and the Bishop has been assisted, and in many 
instances himself instructed, by Dr Bleek, a German linguist, 
who has been engaged to assist in methodising the language, 
and in further translations, I have said that little progress 
has been made in the less usual idioms of the language : for 
the Bishop and Dr Bleek were not sufficiently deep in 
their knowledge to enable them to take us much beyond the 
simple and mox-e common forms of expression : and besides, 
the book which we were translating being itself a trans- 
lation, and one made probably by persons who had only an 
imperfect knowledge of the language, we could not expect to 
find in it anything but simple forms of language, frequently 
repeated. However, some ground has been gained, and we 
are certainly in a position to pick up the language from 
actual communication with the natives. 

Another good result of the long voyage has been the 
acquaintance we have thus had an opportunity of making 
with each other. For instance, I have had many opportu- 
nities of conversation with the Bishop, from which I have 
derived much advantage, and which has, I think, shewn us 
that we are so nearly alike in opinion and feeling, that we 
may confidently hope to work harmoniously together. Then 
again, others of the party have had opportunities of making 
friendship together, quite as well if not better than on land. 
This I think worth mentioning, because it seemed at fii'st as 
if the ten weeks of the voyage would be thro^vn away. I 
looked upon this as a necessary and unavoidable loss arising 
from the scene of our future labour being in a distant land : 
I now look upon it as having been highly useful to our 
work. One other good purpose the voyage ought to have 
hadj but I must confess that I did not turn the time to 


profit in tliis respect; I mean that one ought to have used 
the time for reading and prayer and meditation, so as to 
gi'ow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ. If this should fall into the hands of any 
person vi^ho is about to follow across the waters to this or 
any other mission, I would suggest the necessity of distinctly 
striving to make this use of the voyage. No doubt there 
are difl&culties in the matter : one being the obstacles which 
exist on board ship to solitude. 

In the earlier part of the voyage we had a good deal of 
sickness on board; not more, I dare say, than usual in such 
cases. This, which might have apj)eared an unmixed evil, 
did, on the other hand, afford to those who were well an op- 
portunity of sympathising, and in many cases of alleviating 
the distress of their neighbours. This cannot have failed to 
have drawn to each other by the cords of love those who 
were afterwards to woi-k together. Another aspect of the 
voyage I must mention. "We have not been, as some may 
have ex^iected, and as some may even think we ought to 
have been, a gloomy, sombre party. We have been as cheer- 
ful as possible. To be sure, we have had a good deal of 
young blood among us, more than many missionary parties : 
but I think even the elder ones among us have felt that 
religion and cheerfulness, far from being incompatible, ai-e 
productive the former of the latter: the good gifts of our 
heavenly Father being intended to be accepted as from Him, 
and that thankfully. 

As to events during our passage, which have not affected 
the interests of the mission. Our cou.rse was more to the 
Westward than I expected. We ran as far as 30° of W. 
Longitude. The reason of running to the West is that the 
N.E. trades are thereby made available to the fullest extent, 
while after running across the S.E. trades, keeping as much 
to the South as possible, the longitude which has been lost 
may be gained again in the temperate zone, where the pre- 
vailins: winds are from the West. But I believe the main 


reason is, that on tlie Western side of tlae Atlantic tlie belt 
near the Equatoi's (between the N.E. and the S.E. trades), 
in which the winds are variable and calms frequent, is nar- 
rower than on the eastern side; and it is considered to be 
worth while to incur a certain addition to the length of 
course to be run, rather than risk an indefinite detention iu 
this region of variable winds. In our case the Captain in- 
tended to cross the line about longitude 19° West, but was 
driven as far West as 25". 

We saw several kinds of birds. One of them was caught, 
an albatross, with a baited hook. He was allowed to walk 
on the deck for some time. I was struck by the want of 
muscular strength in the wing. He was a heavy bird, con- 
siderably heavier than a swan ; yet the wing yielded to one's 
hands without much resistance, when we bent one of the 
joints of it. This may be, because the bird, though very 
much on the wing, does not require to give violent blows 
with the wing, and needs muscles capable of exertion for 
long periods, rather than capable of exciting a powerful 
force for a short time. 

The heat on crossing the line was considerable, but not 
so excessive as I expected. Some of us indeed were put out 
of sorts for a few days, but I found it only slightly enervat- 
ing : and it made it necessary for us to remain a good deal 
under the awning. (We made jokes at the time about the 
connection between awning and yawning, which may shew 
the weak state of mind and body to which we were reduced.) 

This day we crossed the bar, and are now lying at anchor 
in the bay. Yesterday morning at daybreak we saw the 
mainland of Afi-ica for the first time. 


The party being now safely arrived at their desti- 
nation, this Chapter may suitably close with the follow- 
ing testimonial, taken from a letter written by Miss 
Mackenzie on the voyage. 


I am very happy and all the passengers are agreeable, 
owing (the Bishop told me) to my excellent brother, whose 
peace-making qualities we know of old ; he is also the life of 
the party, the sunshine of the steerage, and the director of 
everything, from the boxes in the hold to the preaching and 
teaching of all on board. 


An interesting historical sketch of the colony, which 
is now. for several years to be the home of Archdeacon 
Mackenzie, will be found prefixed to Bishop Colenso's 
Ten WeeJcs in Ratal. The colony has been so much 
before the eyes of English Christians, as an interesting 
and hopeful scene of missionary work, during the last 
seven or eight years, that it might perhaps be taken 
for granted that the readers of this memoir would be 
already sufficiently acquainted with the position of 
Natal, both geographical and religious. I shall think 
it right, however, to suppose that there are some to 
whom a few words of explanation will be acceptable, 
and for them the following paragraphs are intended. 

" Natal lies upon the South-East coast of Africa, 
in latitude 29 to 31 degrees. It derives its name, 
Ter7^a Katalis, from the fact of its having been dis- 
covered by the Portuguese navigator, Vasco di Gama, 
on Christmas-day, A.D. 1497- Its extent of surface is 
about 18,000 square miles, or just one-third of England 
and Wales. The country may be described, generally, 
as rising rapidly from the coast of the Indian Ocean, 


in four distinct steps or terraces, each about twenty 
miles in average width, and each having its own pe- 
cuHarity^of soil and climate. Along the coast the heat 
is greatest, and though scarcely, in the height of sum- 
mer, to be called 'tropical,' it is yet sufficient to allow 
of the gi'owth of cotton, sugar, coffee, pine-apples, and 
other productions of the tropics. There is a good deal 
of woodland and park-like scenery in this region ; but 
further inland, as the country rises in elevation, the 
temperature is diminished, and the air is clear and 
refreshing, except when the hot wind blows from the 
North-West, from the sun-scorched centre of Africa. 
The second range of land is almost bare of trees, but 
excellently well adapted for grazing purposes, besides 
furnishing abundant crops of hay, oats, mealies, or 
Indian-corn, and barley. The port-town of Durban, 
with its population of 1100, lies in the former district, 
and Maritzburg, the city and seat of government, 
with a population of about 1800, including the mili- 
tary, in the latter. Beyond this, the hills again rise, 
and we come to a region in which is found plenty of 
forest-timber of considerable size, and of very superior 
quality. And still more inland, immediately under the 
foot of the Kahlamba, or Draakenberg mountains, the 
soil is well adapted for growing wheat and other Euro- 
pean products V 

Natal was recognised as a British colony in 1845, 
and became a separate diocese in 1853. Ecclesiastically 
speaking, it is of the nature of an island, being sepa- 
rated from the diocese of Graham's Town by Indepen- 

^ Ten Weelcs in Natal. 


dent Kaffraria, while to the North-East it is bounded 
by the heathen country of the Zulus. Some years 
before it became a British colony, an attempt had been 
made to evangelize the natives under the auspices of 
the Church Missionary Society. In August 1837, the 
Rev. T. Owen, with his wife and sister, landed at Port 
Natal, and shortly after commenced missionary opera- 
tions. In the beginning of the following year, however, 
a terrible massacre of Dutch boers, who had settled in 
the country, and who were murdered in cold blood 
by order of Dingaan, the native king, and the manifest 
probability that Mr Owen and his family would sooner 
or later share the same fate, made the missionaries 
determine to accept the offer of escape, which the king 
made them, and to leave the country. 

This massacre was amongst the dark recollections 
of the colony, when it was put under the care of a 
Christian bishop. Bright days seemed to have dawned : 
the steadiness and equity of British rule had caused 
a considerable immigration of Zulus, glad to escape the 
tyranny of their native chiefs, and the Bishop reckoned 
the native population at the time of his first visit as 
being from 100,000 to 120,000. 

The Zulu Kaffirs are spoken of as a noble race of 
people, very superior to the Hottentots, — some one has 
described them as "magnificent savages"; they are 
honest and independent, capable of thinking and judg- 
ing for themselves, and they speak a language of con- 
siderable refinement, and almost of Italian delicacy of 
pronunciation. Their chief fault seems to be that which 
belongs to all unchristianised races, a want of ap- 


preciation of the dignity of women ; polygamy is the 
law of the country : and each new wife being purchased 
with a certain number of cows, the multiplicity of a 
man's wives unfortunately becomes, to a certain extent, 
a measure of his wealth and his social importance. 

To this short notice of Natal, which will be en- 
larged incidentally as we proceed, I shall only add, that 
the reader will find at the beginning of this chapter 
a map of a portion of the colony ; it includes all those 
places which are more immediately connected with 
Archdeacon Mackenzie's work and journey ings, and is 
copied from one which was made under his own direc- 
tion, for the information of his friends at home. 

For the account of Archdeacon Mackenzie's life in 
Natal, I shall depend to some extent upon his own 
letters, written from time to time, but in no great 
abundance ; in addition to these, I have carefully read 
through a very large number of letters, written to 
friends at home by the sister who accompanied him, 
and by another sister, who (as we shall see) joined him 
afterwards. The extracts which I shall think it right 
to make from those letters will give only a faint notion 
of the life of earnest Christian work which they reveal, 
a life darkened sometimes by troubles, and those trou- 
bles not slight, but lighted up with the quiet light of 
practical godliness and charity. Admiration for their 
brother's character is not the least conspicuous feature 
of this very interesting collection^. 

^ I have sometimes wished that a series of letters, taken from the 
collection here referred to, could be published. I think they would 
make some Cliristians at home in love with a Missionary hfe. 


I now give two letters written by the ArcJideacon 
some months after arriving in the colony, the first to 
myself, the second to his eldest sister. 


L)URBz\.N, July ■2'jiJt, 1855. 
Dear GooDWi:>f, 

•X- * * -X- * 

For tlie first week after landiug we all remained 
here, that is, at the town of Durban, about two miles from 
the mouth of the bay where we landed. I was chiefly em- 
ployed in seeing that the goods came on shore, and were 
safely stowed in the warehouse; partly in seeing that the 
rest of the party were comfortable. About a week after 
landing the order was given for the mission party to pro- 
ceed to Maritzburg, which is (as you know) fifty-two miles 
from this. We went in ten waggons, each of wliich was 
drawn by twelve or fourteen oxen. The particulars of the 
journey I shall not euter into, except one point. On the 
last night of the journey, shortly before we went to bed, 
we heard a considerable noise in a Kafir cabin close to us. 
Several of us went to see what was the matter, and found 
some four or five Kafirs sitting round the fire, which burned 
in the middle of the hut, on the ground of course, singing. 
I fancy it was a war-song. Every now and then, at the 
crisis in the song, one of them struck the tent-pole, which 
was about as thick as the calf of one's leg, heavy blows witli 
liis knob-kerry, with a ferocious or rather malicious expres- 
sion efface. Then at other times they all joined in a curious 
noise made by panting with all their might, and at each 
expiration making a groaning noise, at the same time shak- 
ing the whole body. This amusement they continued till 
they were quite tired. We often hear a noise in the town 
of Durban, which betokens that the Kafir servants of so;re 
two or three families have got together, and are having a 



night oi it in this sort of way. It is very horrible to see, 
but I sometimes doubt whether it is much more barbarous 
than the noises I have sometimes enjoyed making at a boat- 
ing tea. or than the fantastic dancing performed by the best 
society. I assure you I think they are all very much on a 
par, and must all of them be accounted for as the ebullition 
of exAubei'ant spirits (I wonder where that word got its h 
from; I know I ought not to have put it in). At Maritz- 
burg I remained three weeks, preaching on Sundays and 
learning Kafir on the week-days. 

About five weeks ago the Bishop determined to employ 

Mr {the Colonial Chaplain, who has been taking the 

duty at this place for the last four or five years,) in forming 
and taking care of scattered congregations on the coast. I 
see now how it is that dissent seems naturally to take the 
lead in a new place ; the ease with which some one with the 
gift of language starts up in a little settlement where there 
are six or seven families, and conducts service on Sunday, is 
not comparable with the difficulty of getting a man in Epi- 
scopal orders to be minister in such a \Aa,cQ, or even in two 
or three tolerably near each other. As to the amount of 
good done, that is a diflferent thing; but dissent steps in 
very often among a set of people heartily attached to the 
Church, and by degrees steals their hearts. I suppose the 
remedy must be the ordaining men deacons, and letting 
them study for a few years longer, while in charge of such 
places, before admitting them to priest's orders. 

Well ; the result of this appropriation of Mr , for 

which his acqiiaintance with so many people in the colony 
admirably fitted him, left the town of Durban without a 
pastor. Accordingly I have been placed here, and think it 
possible I may remain here for a year, or perhaps two or 
three. It is not exactly the work I came out to do. At 
the same time the 2)'>'i'}"tciple on which I came out is in no 
way broken ; namely, I came out because so few were will- 
ing and able to leave home. And after all, I am perhaps 


exercising as great an influence for tlie good of the natives, 
if I be allowed to exert a good influence on the whites here, 
who will again act on the natives. Nothing can so interfere 
with missionary operations as the presence of a white popu- 
lation uninfluenced in heart by Christianity. Then, too, if 
I can get on with the language, there are as many coloured 
people as whites in the town, acting as house-servants. They 
do not stay for very long periods at a time; two or three 
months to eight or nine; never a year, w^ithout spending a 
month or more at home, after which they very often do not 
return. However, if I knew (or rather, when I know,) the 
language, I can work among them to my heart's content. 
The chiu'ch here is complete as far as the fabric goes, walls 
and roof, but is not free from debt. 

The people here are, I am thankful to say, well disposed 
towards me so far. Some little opposition exists to the 
custom (not an innovation, as you say,) of having baptisms 
in the service. I have to-day filled a sheet of paper in an- 
swer to a letter containing arguments in favour of letting 
the custom remain as it was under my predecessor. 

I have just begun having service on Saints' days : prayers 
in the morning, prayers and sermon in the evening, I have 
about twenty in the morning, and fifty in the evening. The 
music in the church is very good. 

As I was coming down from P. M. B. (Pieter Maritz- 
burg) a fortnight ago, when I had got about half way, I 
thought I would take a short cut by a Kafir path. I had 
heard of the short cut, and had observed where I expected 
the cut to come into the road again. So I went ofl" the road, 
and trudged away, my path being by the side of a little 
stream, with hardly a trickle of water in it : but the bed 
was in many places twelve feet deep and twenty wide, and 
there were evident signs of ovei'flowinfr the banks in the wet 



season. I had left the public-house about six, with a cup of 
coffee for breakfast; as I went on the path I began to think 
it was longer than I expected, and at last I could not find 
any track at all ; so I concluded that I had lost my way. 
I climbed to the highest ground near, and I thought I re- 
cognized a hill ; but on going some miles towards it I found 
I was wrong. By this time I had lost any notion of direc- 
tion I might have had. Unfortunately your compass was 
still packed up in a zinc box at Maritzburg, (I have it now,) 
and the sun was not visible, — the first and only day I have 
missed him, I think, since landing. I was at fault about 
the points of the compass, when I saw an atom of a rain- 
bow (not more in length than its own breadth) on the 
liorizon. I stopped, marked its position, and noted which side 
was red and which violet; and taking it for granted it was 
the primary bow, I estimated the position of the sun, and 
looking at my watch I made out the North. Aha ! said I 
to myself, I wonder how long it would have been before his 

knowledge of Homer and Cicero would have helped 

out of a jilace like this. Now, said I, Durban to wliich I 
am going lies S. W. of P. M. B.; so if I walk towards the 
S. E. I shall get back to the road in the least possible time. 
Oflf I set in high spirits, and went on for half an hour, when 
I suddenly remembered that Durban is S.E. of P. M. B., and 
that I was walking parallel to the road instead of at right 
angles to it. By this time it was about eleven, and I was 
getting very hungry and tired, when I saw a Kafir kraal ; 
so up I went, and asked one of them, "Shew me the way to 
Pine Town." The man understood and nodded; when he 
was ready, I said, " Give me to eat :" so he made me go 
with him into his hut. You have to crawl in on hands and 
knees; the hut is about fifteen feet in diameter, quite cir- 
cular, and about six feet high in the middle. They are all 
roof, as one of our party described them, with a strong post 
in the middle to support the centre. They are made of 
reeds wattled. Well, in I crawled, (as I had done a dozen 


times before, but never having been the only Englishman,) 
and two of them with me. One called out loudly to his 
wife, who brought in a vessel of sour milk, amaci, thick 
stuff, but not too thick to drink; so I put it to my lips with 
considerable satisfaction; and then gave my guide a shilling, 
which he perfectly understood. The other fellow then gave 
him his purse containing some five or six shillings in silver, 
in order, as I supposed, to make some purchases, and finally 
took off his shirt, and gave it to my guide, who had only an 
old coat on ; this was taken off, the shirt struggled into, the 
coat put on above; with the exception of these articles of 
dress, my guide had only a Kafir full dress, which consists 
of something like the Highlander's purse, (without the kilt,\ 
and sometimes a strip of cow's hide with the hair on round 
each ankle. Then we started, after my guide had taken 
several whiffs of hemp, which they smoke instead of tobacco, 
tobacco being used solely for snuff. The pipe was curious. 
It consisted of a cow's horn, with a hole on one side, into 
which the bowl was inserted. The bowl is of wood, I think. 
The man puts his mouth into the large end of the horn, 
which he manages to till up, and then draws in his breath, 
receiving thereby the smoke from the bowl. 

"Well, we set off at last. After walking two or three 
miles, we came to a hut : my friend threw down his stick 
and assegai, and crawled in. I threw down my stick and 
followed. The hut contained a man, and four wives, some 
with two or three children, some apparently without. I went 
out again when we were ready, back foremost ; partly I 
believe from a courteous dislike of tui*ning my back upon 
them: they were very much amused. We reached Pine 
Town, on the way to Durban, about 2 o'clock, instead of 10, 
as I had promised. So I determined not to try a short cut 
again, till I knew better how to prevent it becoming a long 



Durban", JaJij 30, 1S55. 
Dear , 

I cannot remember for certain, and my memory 

(that is A ) is not here to remind me, whether I wrote 

to yovx on landing, I think I did; and sent the letter by 
the Mauritius, in which case you must have got it some 
two months before you get this : however, I will call this 
No. 1. 

-»• ■::- "r -x- * 

"We came to anchor, Sunday, May 20; landed next day; 
started for Maritzburg (written P. M. B.) Monday, May 28 ; 
ai-rived on Thursday, May 31. * * ''•' I started for Dur- 
ban on Thursday, June 21. The Bishop had been at 
P. M. B. for a fortnight or so, but had returned to his fa- 
mily; they left Durban for P. M. B. on Tuesday, June 26. 
As to the time of the journey, an old colonist, or a good 
rider, will go through in a day, twelve or thirteen hours : 
one like myself will go through in two days : a waggon 
takes three, that is, sleeps three nights on the road, arriving 
about the same time of day as they started : they are not 
able to make the journey by sleeping two nights, because 
they cannot by any contrivance, or under pressure, start 
early in the morning. 

I do not know whether — 

travelling. The body of the waggon is not unlike an Eng- 
lish one, only narrower, and 1 think longer. From the 
sides thei-e springs a roof, supported by semicircular arches 
of wood, and consisting of canvas. The sides and roof are 
very strong, as indeed they had need be. There is a pole, 
and six or seven pairs of oxen, constituting a ^' span," draw 
it by means of yokes. The yoke is a piece of a pole, about 


four inclies ia diameter, and long enougli to reacli across 
tlie necks of two oxen; then there are two jiieces of wood 
stuck into it at each end, which pass down on each side of 

the neck of each bullock, so as to keep the top-piece in its 
place. These pieces are about as broad and thick as your 
hand. They pass in front of the shoulder; and I thought 
at first the beast pushed against them in drawing, just as a 
horse pushes against the collar with his shoulder; but I 
soon found that their only use is to keep the top-piece 
from slipping oflf the neck, and the draught arises from the 
pressure of a hump above the shoulder against the said top- 
piece or pole. The Cape oxen have all of them this hump, 
without which they could not be used for drawing, at any 
rate not half so well. Well : you have perhaps seven such 
yokes, with a pair of oxen luider each, (we hear of oxen 
putting the neck under the yoke, you would not so speak of 
a collar), and a strong chain, or a rope made of thongs of 
skin, passes forward from the end of the pole and is fastened 
by a short rope to the middle of eacli yoke : so when the 
driver says Trekk, (or Trek, it should be, I believe) — for the 
waggon-terms are most of them Dutch — the oxen go on, 
and the waggon follows. He is provided with a long whip, 
which gives very severe cuts sometimes. They make no 
difficulty about going over stones very much larger than 
one's head, so that the jolting which ensues may be con- 
ceived to be considerable. They are generally provided 
with large clumsy shoe drags, and I am told that sometimes 
thi'ee wheels are dragged in going down a steep hill : they 
would drag all four, only they say that the waggon would 


be unmanageable, and might twist round so as to stand 
across the road, in which case it would upset. The oxen 
have no means of holding back in going down hill, so the 
only thing to be done is to run to the bottom as soon as 
possible, and try to keep on the road. We had one in- 
stance on. our way to P. M . B, when both R and 1 

thought we should have been upset : he said quite coolly, 
" I think we shall have an upset; but it will not be a bad 
one !" But they say the road from Durban to P. M. B. is a 
prodigy for goodness : I have not yet seen any other. 

The main advantage in using oxen here is, I imagine, 
because their feeding costs nothing. The country as you 
go along is quite open, and generally covered with grass ; 
and the oxen are simply turned loose to graze in the morn- 
.ing before starting, and at the halts which they make once 
or twice in the course of the day. The land belongs to 
some person, but there is very little cultivation indeed ; 
you see an acre or two with forage growing, and then you 
■ go on for two miles without seeing a house, or a sign of 
life, except a Kafir kraal or two on the side of the opposite 
hill. But you will say you have heard enough of waggons 
and oxen. 

My present work is the parish of Dui-ban, or rather the 
town, for at present the parish extends, I suppose, twenty- 
five miles in one direction and fifty in others. The town is 
said, if I remember right, to contain about 1000 white 
people, and I suppose there may be as many Kafirs acting as 
servants. The church, the only one in the colony that has 
a roof on, is not yet completed; but owing to arrangements 
that have been made since the Bishop came out, it is now 
progressing. It will hold about 250 persons : it is built of 
brick; the roof is open, and the beams are shcAvn. There 
is no east window: I mean the east end is built up, without 
a window in it : they say it would have been too hot in 
summer, if the morning sun had once got in. The floor is 
of wood, and the seats are at present plain white deal 


benches with backs and ends. There is a very nice instiai- 
ment (a serajthime I tliink it is) and a voluntary choir, who 
sing very fairly, almost too well for the congregation : one 
of them has proposed to train a set of boys, which offer I 
have thankfully accepted. We have Jackson's Te Dewnx 
every Sunday, and the music for the responses at the Com- 
munion is prettier I think than any I ever heard. When 
I said to the organist that I had never heard it before, and 
that I liked it, she said, " Very likely not. Sir ; it is my 
own composing." The church is tolerably full in the morn- 
ing, at eleven, and nearly as full in the evening, at half- 
past six. These hours suit the people here, who commonly 
(universally, I think) dine in the middle of the day. Be- 
sides the English church, there is a Wesleyan chapel, and 
a Congregationalist. The former has been built some time; 
of the latter the foundation was laid the other day ; there 
has been a congregation however for some time. 

When I left England, it was, as you know, with the ex- 
pectation of being stationed on the mission ground : but 
we have found things less advanced than we expected, and 
it seems it would be premature to be building a house on 
the ground yet. Besides, the Bishop was anxious for seve- 
ral reasons to put a new clergyman here at Durban. One 
of them was the fitness of the man who was here, the 
colonial chaplain, for forming and making up new congre- 
gations of colonists in the outljdng and thinly-peopled dis- 
tricts of the colony; and he had no one that suited his 
purpose so well to be placed here as myself; so he said to 
me that he thought of placing me here for a time, and I 
said at once that I would do anything he liked. It has 
occurred to me once or twice that this was not what I 
came out for: but then I have remembered, and it has 
perfectly satisfied my mind, so that I do not think the ob- 
jection will return, — I came out here, simply because there 
was a scarcity of people that could and would come : I did 
not come because I thought the work more important than 


what I was leaving : tliougli 1 did and do feel tlie import- 
ance of the work here very strongly; but I came because 
so few would. I left plenty in England; and my coming 
abroad has left the place open for others. So I am quite 
satisfied, and am couAinced that I am doing best by being 
at the bidding of the Bishop. You may be sui'prised at 
my sapng all this; but I know you are interested in my 
being satisfied, and I like to tell you honestly what I think. 
To return to the question of an abode. It is very dif- 
ficult to get a house to suit. There are plenty of houses 
with three rooms, a sitting-room and two bed-rooms, and 
one or two little outside rooms, built in the verandah ; but 
these are hardly big enough. 

w -^ '^ -S" ^ 

Do you know I found myself, the other day, persuading 
a mother to send her eldest son, a gentle boy of 11 years 
old, to school : she said he was very closely bound to her : 
nobody's advice or opinion was so good as mamma's. I 
told her I had a sister, to whom I sometimes felt disposed 
to write for advice still, because I used to feel very much 
towards her, as this boy did to hei' : and I said the wrench 
at leaving home at the age of 15 was so great, that I never 
failed to urge mammas to send away their boys earlier 
than that, unless they thought they could keep them with 
them altogether. My own sister, it is very comforting to 
look forward to meeting again : it may be in this world, 
or it may be in another ; but it will be some time. 

One of the i^eculiarities of this place is the utter absence 
of old people. The church-clerk, who is also sexton, is a 
man of about 55 perhaps, and I suppose there are one or 
two others like him; but the great number of people are 
young, and the number of children is wonderful. Another 
peculiarity is the smallness of the incomes : not above two 
people in the colony have above £400 or £500 a-year : 
not above fifty, I dare say, more than £200. It is not easy 
to get money from people who have not much. 


Two of our number, Dr Bleek aud Baugh, are at a 
Kafir kraal, liviug among the natives to learn the lan- 
guage. That is the jjroper way : I wish I were with 

It will be seen from the preceding letters, that soon 
after arriving in the colony Archdeacon Mackenzie was 
settled down as the parish priest of Durban ; it will be 
seen also that his own judgment somewhat questioned 
the arrangement, but that he acquiesced on the general 
principle of submission to superior authority, and satis- 
fied himself that all was right by reflecting upon the 
reasons which had induced him to leave home and 
devote himself to foreign work. Without venturing to 
ex^jress a positive opinion in a matter in which local 
circumstances require to be thoroughly well known in 
order to enable any person to form a valuable judg- 
ment, I may perhaps say that it was a considerable 
disappointment to his friends at home to hear that 
Mackenzie was ajDpointed to the parochial charge of 
Durban; they had rather looked forward to the in- 
fluence which his fine character and Christian spirit 
should exercise upon the whole diocese, and had re- 
garded him as the companion and friend of the Bishop, 
rather than as the clergyman of a small white po23ula- 
tion. Hence, when troubles arose in Durban, in no 
way connected with missionary labours, but of a kind 
which might have happened in any parish in England, 
there was certainly amongst his friends at home a dis- 
position to grudge him to such work, and to question 
more than ever the wisdom of his choice in determin- 


incr to go abroad. These Durban troubles I would 
gladly pass over altogether, the more so as I believe 
that many who were much opposed to the Archdeacon 
at the time learned to see his worth, and did not fail 
to testify their altered feeling towards him when he 
visited the colony a second time : but it would be im- 
possible to speak of this portion of his life, and to de- 
scribe his ministry at Durban, without alluding to the 
disturbances which arose from the differences between 
his parishioners and himself. The fact is, that at the 
time of the Ai'chdeacon's appointment to Durban the 
minds of many persons were in a state of irritation 
concerning Church matters: preaching in a surplice 
appeared to some to be only Popery in disguise, the 
Offertory an innovation to be sturdily resisted, the 
public administration of Baptism a dangerous novelty, 
and true Protestantism was regarded as bound up with 
all the careless fashions introduced in careless times. 
This kind of feeling, for which allowance ought on 
many and very good grounds to be made, was not con- 
fined to England, but extended to the colonies, and 
Durban was influenced by it. 

It may be stated perhaps that with regard to in- 
ternal management, the infant Churches of the colo- 
nies are in one respect more favourably situated than 
the Church at home, and in another less so. On the 
one hand, the congregations in the colonies are newly 
gathered, and have no bad habits of long standing to 
break through; on the other, there is a feeling of inde- 
pendence in the colonies, which is likely to extend to 
the Church, and to make it more difficult for the minis- 


ter to lead his flock, in matters not distinctly ruled by 
law or custom, than in England. It may be added, that 
there is a corresponding temptation in the colonies to 
get rid of bad habits which have crept into many of 
our English congregations, and a corresponding danger 
of such efforts leading to misunderstandings between 
minister and people. In the case of Durban matters 
stood thus. The congregation in that place was the 
oldest in the colony, and differed in some of its habits 
from those more recently established: especially there 
was no Offertory, as a regular part of the Church ser- 
vice, although the jiractice was universal elsewhere 
throughout tlie diocese. The attempt to introduce 
uniformity, an attempt to which he was first led by his 
confidence in his people and belief that they had con- 
fidence in him, and in which his feeling of submission 
to his Bishop led him to persevere when his own judg- 
ment prompted him to desist, was the origin of troubles 
which constituted the most painful chapter of his life. 
I remember well the intense sorrow with which his 
friends at home regarded the vexations which he had 
to endure, and the admiration with which they noted 
the saintly manner in which he bore them ; for myself, 
the subject was so exceedingly painful that I could not 
bear to open the packets of local newspapers which 
were sent to me from the colony, and which contained 
the history of vexations and annoyances which I could 
not alleviate. Beyond doubt this was part of the disci- 
pline and education by which God was fitting His ser- 
vant for a more difficult and trying post. 

Having made these remarks upon the Durban 


troubles, I shall introduce a portion of a letter in which 
he unburdened his mind to the editor of this Memoir. 
It is the only sorrowful letter I ever received from him ; 
the only one that I have read in which his noble heart 
seemed to be at all bowed down by the weight put 
upon it. The letter, as will be seen, was strictly pri- 
vate, and in one paragraph he gave strict injunction 
that nothing taken from it should be published: the 
reasons assigned however were of a temporary character, 
and do not apply now ; I trust that I shall not have 
violated the spirit of the injunction by printing a por- 
tion in this volume. I have omitted everything which 
in my opinion Mackenzie would have desired to withhold. 


Loose slip : to be read first. 

You will soon find that this must be a very private 
letter. I must have some one to uubosom myself to, and 
though I do so to a certain extent to some here, yet 
there is no friend to whom I can so fully speak as to you. 

Durban, Fch. 8, 1856. 
Dear Goodwin, 

I have received your very acceptable letters. My 

sister has written home in some letter to somebody, that 

the delight of reading a home letter is quite as great as 

it has been described, though she was sceptical on the 

point before she came out. I quite agree with her, and 

I think it only right to ovir friends at home, that they 

should know the thrill of pleasure with which we hear 

that there is a vessel outside, (that is, not yet entered the 

harbour,) then that she has an English mail on board ; 

then that she has seven or eight bags of letters which 

have been landed, and that letters will be delivered at three 


o'clock in the afternoon ; finally, the discoveiy that the half- 
crown sent by the Kafir has come back reduced to three 
threepenny pieces, indicating that we have seven letters, 
of which jierhaps three are for the Robertsons, to whom 
we immediately send them, while we (unless it be Satur- 
day afternoon) sit down to the full enjoyment of our own. 

I have dated this letter " Durban, " as usual, though 
I am at present out on one of my clerical tours. I left 
home on Thursday (yesterday) morning, at half-past seven 
A.M., having intended to be off at least an hour earlier, but 
having lost that time in seeing that the horse was fed, 
that the fire was lighted and the coffee made, and in putting 
up the shirts and papers I should take with me. I was 
on my sister's "horse, having sent my own the day before, 
by my own Kafir groom, to the house of a friend, fifteen 
miles on the road. I have a little capering about, and 
am nearly on the neck of my horse, as soon as he discovers, 
by the direction of his head, and the saddle-bag at his side, 
that he is ofi" on a journey. I come, after four miles riding 
along a flat road, to the river Umgeni. There is no bridge, 
but a great floating stage, known as "the punt at the 
middle drift;" but as the depth of the water is not suflticient 
in all parts to float me and the horse as well, though in 
general it carries loaded waggons across, I take ofi" the 
saddle and lead my horse behind me, he having to swim 
in the deepest part. I pay 9c7. and lose a quarter of 
an hour in this operation. I proceed along a sandy road 
through the bush, sometimes along glades covered with 
long grass, sometimes along a road cut through the bush, 
(which stands here for jungle, and consists of trees thirty 
feet high, and bushes matted together in the most beautiful 
"way with masses of convolvulus and other creepers,) till 
I come to the river TJmhlanga, on the other side of which 
is the house of my friend Adams. In one place the road, 
which is a waggon-track, is so overgrown with grass from 
side to side, that it reaches as high as my head while I 


sit on horseback. This part of the road has not been 
travelled bv waggons for a few months. 

It is now a quarter past ten. I stop at Adams', and 
have breakfast. The bread is made of mealies, and tastes 
to me much as oatcake does, I suppose, to an Englishman, 
who has not the good sense to appreciate it. I find here 
my horse, and send back my sister's by the Kafir who 
brought mine. About 12 we start. The sun about 10° 
from the zenith. We follow narrow paths, not waggon- 
tracks, across the river Umhloti; we call upon the little 
merchant of the neighbourhood, and tell him that I have 
every hope of being able to keep my appointment by hold- 
ing service in the house of one of his neighbours at half- 
past three next Sunday, and beg him to . let his friends 
know. This knot of people is called Mount Moreland. 
There are some ten or twelve families, dotted about on 
grassy knolls, in a space of about six miles by three, the 
majority of whom are members of the Church of England, 
to whom a Wesleyan preacher comes from the adjoining 
neighbourhood of Yerulam every Sunday morning. This 
Wesleyan service is attended by most of the Mount More- 
land people. All that we are at present able to do is to 
offer them a service once in three weeks, and it is on this 
duty partly that I have come up. 

We arrive at seven o'clock at the house of Mr , 

the resident magistrate of this district, which is called the 
TJmhlali, from a river which runs through it, at a distance 
of about forty-five miles from Durban. I carry with me a 
.surplice, which I shall leave in this neighbourhood, and 
three copies of the last S. P. G. E.ej)ort, which I shall also 
leave in various places. 

So far I have written in a common way of what might 
interest any common friend. But I must in this letter try to 
give you an idea of the position of things here, of which you 
may have heard something. We have had great trouble and 
annoyance from the opposition of the people here, some few 


violent persons especially, to the Offertory. I knew on 
coming to Durban that it was the Bishop's wish to intro- 
duce the Offertory, and I proposed to him, on our way to 
church the first time I preached here as incumbent, that I 
shovdd begin at once with my surplice, as the people had 
been very anxious to have me here, and I thought they 
would take me quietly with all my faults, of which they 
would consider this to be one. He advised me not, but to 
wait till I had gained the confidence of my parishioners. 
Unfortunately I fancied I had done this in about three 
months, and then proposed to the Bishop to introduce 
surplice and Offertory. He said, "Well, do so, if you think 
you can : only do not consider that I order it : I only sanc- 
tion it." When I mentioned here to one of the church- 
wardens what I was going to do, he said, " You don 't 
know what a storm you will raise — I, for my part, cannot 
collect the Offertory, in defiance of the feelings of the peoi^le." 
I said, " O, that will all die away again in a week or two ; if 
you will only do your duty and make the collection, it will 
be all right." Unfoi'tunately I gave ten days' notice of 
my intention: they called a vestry meeting, and unani- 
mously requested me, in the chair, to waive my intention ; 
their avowed reason being that the surpKce and Offertory 
were connected with a party in England with which they 
could not agree, and they were afraid if this were allowed to 
pass, something more would follow. I refused to waive my 
intention. The meeting broke up in great disorder. On 
the Friday the chm-chwarden told me that they intended to 
organize an opposition, to leave the church, and get a cler- 
gyman fi"om England, who would ofiiciate in the way to 
which they were accustomed. (They objected to my bap- 
tizing during the service, as well.) 

The reader will here see the elements of a quarrel 
and disturbance of much bitterness. I shall omit the 
greater part of the letter, which describes all the par- 



ticulars of the storm, because it might give pain to 
some under whose eyes these pages may come ; it must 
suffice to say that the breach between minister and 
people became wider and wider, until at length it 
amounted to an actual separation and to open war. I 
ought however to add, in justice to the Archdeacon, 
that he did in the first instance waive his intention, 
and that it was only upon finding that concession did 
not produce confidence and harmony that he was in- 
duced to carry out his original scheme, I now resume 
the letter. 

All this is very unpleasant. I used to say, I did not 
know why God had given me so sunshiny a life. One or two 
jDeople used to say, that I did not need tribulation : but this 
I never believed. Others, such as you I think, used to say 
it was because my nature was good-tempered, and I did not 
think things to be painful which others did : but even so, 
this was the gift of God. I now think that He has an- 
swered my prayer which used to be for pain and annoyance, 
when He thought it wise : and I thank Him, and only hope 
He will " fit me for perfect rest above :" perhaps that i-est 
may be made more sweet by annoyance now. 

* * -X- -X- % 

My present position has driven me to feel the necessity 
of prayer for the whole state of Christ's Church Militant. 
In this respect I am still very deficient, but I trust to be 

My hope is, that God may work a cure out of the very 
violence of the disease ; that true chiirchmen, being true 
Christians, will rally round the Church ; and that the oppo- 
sers of the Bishop being now, as they are beginning to be, 
joined by those who would claim for all a vote in vestry, 
and by those who would level the Church on the plea of 
religious liberty, may become encumbered by their friends. 


Thus our enemies may be drowned iu the act of pursuing us 
into the sea. I have much comfort in reading of the old 
days, when the Church was in worse difficulties than this, 
yet out of them all the Lord delivered her. 

I have not a great deal of time for reading, but as much 
I believe as I had in Cambridge. I am preaching four times 
a-week : three times in my own church, and once at a 
week-day service for some people four miles off. This makes 
me feel the necessity of reading more than I used to do 
when Haslingfield was my field. 

* * * -^ AJ 

It is now May 3. I really hope I may never keep a 
letter on the stocks for three months again. All I can do now 
is to close this and send it by the mail which goes to-day. 

Times are troublous here still. I am holding service 
in a large building hired and licensed for the purpose, while 
one of the churchwardens encourages a service, read, by 
his directions, by a layman in S. Paul's church. The Bishop 
is prepared veiy soon, I think, to go to law to prevent 
the building from being used, when closed by him. I do 
not seriously blame myself for any part I have taken in 
the whole matter, though I think I might have acted with 
more judgment once or twice. 

Yours very truly, 

C. F. M. 

The next letter is to his eldest sister, and belongs 
to nearly the same date as the conclusion of that which 


Durban, May 22, 1856, 

It is now more than a year since we landed here. 
The time has passed very quickly : so quickly that if it keep 



up its present rate, ■we shall very soon arrive at the end of 
this changeful wox'ld of separation, of care, of conflict, and 
be joined together in peace and happiness ; and this quick 
passing of time will, I think, continue, so long as health and 
strength give leave for constant employment. I have some- 
times thought of the peculiarity of God's dealings with me, 
that for so long a period (since I went to Grange at least in 
1840, and how much earlier you will remember better than 
I do — since I had the scarlet fever, I suppose) I have had 
no illness of any kind. I do not attempt to account for this, 
but wish to leave the matter in His hands who knows best 

You speak, I see, in your letter of Nov. 12, which 

A has just given me, of the possibility of my coming 

back, and finding my place at Cambridge open. No : that's 
a mistake ; Cambridge, above all places that I know, soonest 
fills up the place of one that goes ; and those who go so 
soon lose connection with so fluctuating a society, that it 
never, I think, works well for a man to return. But besides 
this, the principle which made me leave College (and it 
required a clear principle to make me break a resolution 
which I often used to express, that I would not leave my 
then woi'k for any position I could conceive,) still exists, 
and is likely to continue as long as I live, namely, the small 
number of persons able and willing to come out as clergy 
to the colonists, or missionaries to the Heathen. I say all 
this, not to give you pain, but because I think it is better 
not to encourage, even by silence, a hope which I feel sure 
can be realised only by my utterly losing health, and 
becoming unfit for work, (which, by the way, I have not 
the smallest intention of doing at present). I think my 
friends would have been pleased, if they had seen me on 
Tuesday, at our Sunday-School treat, playing and enjoying 
the games as much I believe as any of the children. 

As to the work here, it is, as you know, in some respects 
less satisfactory than it was. My congregation is, I suppose. 


from eighty to a hundred, instead of two hundred, as I dare 
say it was : still I feel that these are braving the danger of 
persecution, which was at first so real that I thought it 
quite as likely as not that one or two of those who attended 
my oh arch would be ruined, by the majority of the people 
withdrawing their custom. This must I think do good : 
to suiTer in a good cause is very strengthening : it is a thing 
which seldom happens at home ; and as I really hope that 
things are slowly mending, I am far from dissatisfied with 
my present work. I am resolutely refusing to give up the 
Kafir evening school, ill-attended as it is, for two reasons : 
one, that if once let down, it will be so difficult to get it up 
again. Besides, we do not know when God will put it into 
the hearts of these heathen boys to come in great numbers. 
There axe, they say, about 1000 in the town as servants. 
But besides this, I am anxious to keep up my slight know- 
ledge of Kafir, and to improve. Now each night I read 
them half a page from a book compiled from the Bible, and 
then talk to them about it, constantly saying, " Is it correct 
to say so?" and this will, I hope, be a less frequent inter- 
ruption as I go on. The Kafir prayers I know pretty well 
now, and can read them quite intelligibly and intelligently 

too. So, as I said to A last night, when she was 

arguing that it was lost labour, I decline to abandon the 
school. The UmFundisi (as we call Mr Robertson, that is, 
teacher,) comes in every Sunday to preach to them ; and I 
hope the week- work may help his congregations. I do so look 
forward to the time when I shall be able to talk fluently. 

The thing I regret more than anything else at present is 
my bad judgment in the choice of instruments : and this 
is a very serious defect in my position. I think I am not 
bad at urging others to work and finding work for them, 
but I sometimes get taken in, and appoint a man unfit for 
the work. I say sometimes, but in fact I am thinking of a 
particular example. 


Archdeacon Mackenzie's ministry in Durban con- 
tinued for nearly a year and a half ; during the greater 
part of that time his life was much embittered by the 
dissensions already referred to and the troubles con- 
nected with them ; nevertheless he worked on quietly 
and faithfully, believing himself to be in the path of 
duty, and trusting that light would break in upon him 
at last. Nothing interfered meanwhile with the per- 
fect peace and happiness of his home : the various 
little annoyances of colonial life, I need hardly say, did 
not trouble him, and even the great and real vexations 
which he endured have scarcely left a trace upon the 
pleasant picture which his sister's letters contain. From 
these letters I shall now make a few extracts, for the 
purpose of conveying to my readers, in the best 
manner possible, a peep at Archdeacon Mackenzie's 
life in Durban. 

1855. Sept. 3. You would rejoice to see Charles here, 
so much liked and respected. He often looks pale and woni, 

but assures me that he has a brighter look since I 

joined him, and have made him a comfortable home, looking 
after his meals, and seeing that his coat is brushed. I have 
improved his horse also, by being head-groom, and seeing 
that his and my own are properly fed and cleaned. I am 
perfectly happy in being here with Charles, but Avas sorry 
he was appointed here. When I asked him which he liked, 
he said he never asked himself the question. 

Sept. 4. We are in a confusion and bustle, moving out 
of a borrowed house we have occupied during the fortnight 
I have been here. We have no view of the sea, which is a 
drawback, and our verandah touches the street; no little 
garden in front; and people take pleasure in telling us how 
bad the situation is; but we could not get another to suit us. 


and we are not disposed to make or find difficulties in what 
is irremediable, and I think my perhaps over-punctilious 
fastidious nature is done good to, and does good to Charles's 
perfect indifference to comfort or appearances. He looks 
paler than at home, but is very active both in mind and 

Oct. 15. You would all be pleased above measure to 
see Charles, how much he is looked up to and respected, 
and how veiy sensible and firm he is, and such an excellent 
preacher. He is adored by all the sick and young of his 
flock. I am convinced he is doing far more good than if 
directly employed in converting the heathen, for he is influ- 
encing and teaching the white people, who by being the 
masters are the practical teachers of the Kafirs, and he 
speaks very plainly to them of their duties to the native 

We had not taken possession of our new house when I 
wrote last. It is a very comfortable one, except that the 
white ants dispute the possession of it, and raise mounds on 
the floor, and eat up our mats, and would eat into our 
boxes if we let them alone. We poison them with arsenic, 
but nothing efiectually removes them except digging till 
you come to the white-ant queen, a most disgusting animal ; 
but our colony is so large that her palace is at too great a 
distance to make it possible. 

Mr Robertson, the Kafir missionary here, works very 
hard, reading Greek and divinity with Charles part of the 
day, and besides taking every opportunity in the course of 
his walks and rides of proclaiming the Gospel. He has a Kafir 
class and service every evening, which is tolerably well at- 
tended ; and though we see as yet little fruit of his labours, 
it would be wrong to be discouraged or to doubt God's 
power of bringing many to the knowledge of Himself 
There are a great many nominal Kafir Christians, but they 
have not a good character, and I am afraid deservedly so, 
being much less honest than their heathen bretln-en, and 


acquiring Christian vices along with the outward civiliza- 
tion of European dress. 

Mr Robertson has only baptized two converts as yet, 
and, as far as we can judge, they are sincere. One of them 
is our servant, and we always treat him as a Christian; and 
as he is not more free from faults than all other people, and 
was unwilling the other day to do as I desired him at the 
moment, I reminded him of the dxities of servants in the 
Bible, and it was touching to see the humble reverential 
way in which he bowed his head as I did so. 

Oct, 17. Panda, a Kafir chief, and brother of the 
monsters Dingaan and Chaaka, of whom you will read in 
Gardiner's account of Natal, is so cruel ; his subjects in 
great numbers leave him and come to us for protection, and 
he demands that we give them and their cattle up to him to 
be put to death or enslaved ; and some think we should 
agree, for fear of irritating Panda. A bargain has been 
made that the cattle be given to him, and this has been 
done ; but there is still a ferment whether the poor people 
should receive protection or not ; so Charles, in one of the 
best sermons I have heard him preach, took for his text, 
" Except the Lord build the house, &c.," and while disclaim- 
ing to give any j^rivate opinion, he urged the duty of trust- 
ing in the Lord, and not doing what was wi'ong to secure 
present safety; and ended by begging help for the Kafir 
school lately established, in money, and by making arrange- 
ments so that the Kafir servants should be able to attend. 
Many, I know, were struck with his remarks. 

Nov. 1. Charles is remarkably well, but overpower- 
ingly busy. On Sunday he breakfasted a little after 7; 
read the burial-service at the cemetery, which is at the 
far end of the town ; then he read the full service to the 

troops for Mr , who is ill ; then the usual service at 11 ; 

the Sunday-school for an hour and a half at 3, and evening 
service at G.30. 

Nov. 8. Charles has just returned from Maritzburg. 


The Bishop sent for him and Mr Robertson to meet the Go- 
vernor, Sir George Grey, who seems to have taken all hearts 
by storm. They rode the 52 miles from hence to Maritz- 
burg on Monday, and 30 miles on Tuesday with the Bishop 
and the Governor and a large party to visit ISTgoza's kraal ; 
a mission-station is to be founded there. They rode back 
the 52 miles to-day with the Governor. 

The missionary work thrives apace. The Kafir school is 
increasing weekly. Charles and I are paying all the ex- 
penses of it at present, the first outlay of repairing and 
thatching the building, buying forms oil and lamps. Mr R. 
talks to every Kafir he meets, and invites them to come to 
school : so one morning a small chief with two attendants 
came to beg him to visit his kraal, and preach, and teach 
his people. The chief was dressed in a red blanket, but 
took his hat oflT, and gave it to one of the Kafii's to hold. 
He was very ceremonious all the time of the interview, but 
the moment Mr R. left them, the chief and his attendants 
jumped like schoolboys over the fence, and were gone like a 
shot. Mr R. would like to have a mission-station there. 

Charles is very well and strong; the exercise he takes and 
the fatigue bodily and mentally he goes through are wonderful, 
and yet he cannot overtake half of what he has to do. When- 
ever he goes from home I occvipy myself in tidying his room, 
arranging his books, and killing spiders and fish-moths, very 
destructive creatures to muslins, paper,, everything. 

Nov. 9. I have just had the honour of a visit from the 
Governor, Sir George Grey. He paid us a very long one, 
more than half an hour; and this is his only day in Durban. 
"We had a good deal of talk about missionary work. He is 
very zealous and enthusiastic, and is sui-e he could do any- 
thing with the Zulus here ; they are so superior in disposition 
and circumstances to the frontier Kafirs. 

1856. January 14. Mr Robertson's work in the town 
we call the Scotch mission. In Christmas- week we resolved 
to give them a feast: so an ox was purchased for lOs., killed 


about eight hours before it was to be devoured, cut up and 
boiled in a large caldron, while part was cut into thin sli})s 
and roasted in the fire. We had another large caldron, in 
which coffee and a great deal of sugar was boiled ; and we 
had a large basket full of loaves. You would have laughed 
at the helpings, as 5 lbs. per head was the average eaten. 
When the repast was finished the Archdeacon exhibited 
his magnificent magic lantern, with dissolving views, many 
of them astronomical, which greatly pleased them, especially 
eveiy one which shewed the moon; she being the regulator 
of their term of work. They seldom engage themselves for 
a longer time than a moon, and talk of the moon being dead 
when the time of payment comes; but many will remain in 
this way for fourteen or twenty moons without a break. 
We limited our feast to those Kafirs who had attended the 
night-school and the Sunday services. They are very fond 
of learning, and sounds of a, b, c are constantly heard, and 
I am constantly caught by strange Kafirs, as well as our 
own, to read or explain a sentence they cannot make out. 

Feb. 9. This morning we had early service at seven a.m., 
which Charles means to continue through Lent, but the 
clerk is ill, and the friend who is doing his duties forgot to 
send the keys of the church, and Mr Robertson mounted my 
pony to get them. He failed : so there was nothing for it, 
but for him to bi"eak in at the window and let us in, and 
then he had no surplice; so he read prayers without one. 
The windows on one side are only of calico. They are putting 
glass and pretty carved stonework up, but the work gets on 
very slowly. I have a letter from Charles this morning, and 
expect him back to-morrow. He says he is getting more 
confidence in speaking to the natives, and that one consider- 
able chief whom he had seen begged that a Missionary 
might be sent to teach his people "to walk gently." He 
writes that he has been trying to get refugees to work on 
Mr Robertson's mission-station, which he is founding ten 
miles from Durban. 


Feb. 25. Charles is veiy well indeed, and as active in 
mind and body as he used to be at home, and his influence 
is very decided for good on a wide circle round and below 
him; his good judgment temper and patience never fail 
him. I am very sorry that he cannot have the work he 
came out for, missionary work, I mean, among the Kafirs ; 
his whole heart and afi'ections are with them, and his pro- 
gress in the language, considering his opportunities, is won- 
derful. If more clergymen would only come out, he might 
be relieved of Durban, and have plenty to do as Ai'chdeacon 
and Missionary, It is astonishing what he gets through, 
and kind friends are always warning me that he will not be 
able to stand it long ; but he is not the man to be persuaded 
by a sister that he is overworking himself, and I can enter 
into his feelings, that a pleasure ride woidd be no relaxation 
to him, while he feels that there are many of his congrega- 
tion he ought to visit, whom he has not time to call upon. 

The position of Mr E.obertson's mission-station 
will be seen by reference to the map. This mission 
specially interested Archdeacon Mackenzie ; he had 
great confidence in Mr Robertson's powers and quali- 
fications as a missionary, and he spent many happy 
days at the Umlazi, assisting in the mission work, and 
at the same time studying under Mr Robertson the 
Zulu language, and the art of dealing with and in- 
fluencing the natives. The accommodation which Mr 
and Mrs Robertson could offer in their mission quarters 
was doubtless of a rough and simple description, but 
their hearty hospitality and their manifest zeal in their 
work made the visits paid by the Archdeacon and his 
sister specially delightful, and the Umlazi a pleasant 
place of retreat from Durban. In order to give some 


notion of life at this mission-station, I shall introduce 
an extract from a letter written by Miss Mackenzie. 

Ekufundisweni. June 8tli. This is tlie name of the 
mission-station, established about three months ago, about 
ten miles from Durban, of which Mr Robertson is the mis- 
sionaiy, and the Archdeacon the superintendent. The name 
signifies " a place of teaching," and Mr R. as well as all 
other clergymen is called UmFundisi. The situation is a 
very good one, both as regards beauty, fertility of soil, and 
numerous Kafir kraals in the immediate vicinity. As I sit 
in the verandah of the temporary hut in which the family 
dwell, I look out on the winding river Umlazi, an extensive 
plain (on which we hoj)e one day to see sugar, arrow-root, 
and cotton growing), and very pretty low hills covered with 
natural wood at the foot, and above grass dotted with pictu- 
resque clumps of trees; in the distance is seen Durban bay, 
the bluff or promontory which forms it, and the white surg- 
ing waves of the Bar make a constant music. Further to 
the South we see the river Umlazi fall into the sea, and we 
hope to make an excui'sion one day to the shore there, and 
to pick up shells, which are much more perfect than what 
we fiind on the beach at Durban. The huts built for present 
use here are of the simplest and roughest construction, but 
Mrs R. has a magical wand by Avhich she gives a ladylike 
look of refinement to all she puts her hand upon. The 
largest or family hut is twenty feet by fourteen, divided by 
screens into three rooms, bed-room, study or dining-room, 
and sitting-room. The mode of building is to stick thickish 
poles into the ground at a short distance from each other, 
and to do the same for the verandahs by putting poles in 
front of the others all round. In this land of heavy rains 
verandahs are almost indispensable to keep the walls tole- 
rably dry. Sloping beams to the roof are added, and a few 
horizontal ones to strengthen them. The thatch composed 
of grass is now put on, and the intervals between the poles 


are filled up with reeds, to complete the walls. It is pitched 
outside with clay, which soon dries. The doors and windows 
were brought from Durban, and the whole expense was 
under £5. A kitchen is built separate, but it has neither 
fire-place, chimney, nor grate. There are two round huts, 
built for the Kafir boys and women-servants, and a very 
nice one for friends, which I inhabit; also a large one for 
the Archdeacon, which he and the Bishop shared when they 
were here. In honest truth, these huts are not to be com- 
pared to houses at home for poultry or pigs, far less those 
for cows and horses. 

I must give an outline of how our days pass here. The 
sun rises at seven, but an hour before all are roused by the 
ringing of a large bell, hung on a tree. This is heard by 
families on the plain at a great distance. At about eight 
Mr R. has Kafir prayers for his own servants. Then we 
breakfast, and our prayers follow. Before they are ended 
many Kafir children have arrived to be taught. We have 
now eight who come regularly. We teach them the alphabet, 
as in Infant Schools, making them sing and clap their hands, 
march, count, &c. The children like coming so much, that 
in some of the kraals, where the parents keep their children 
to work, to nurse the infants, or watch the cows, they make 
them hide when they see us coming to invite them. 

From the data now before him, the reader must 
picture to himself the Archdeacon's life to the end of 
the year 1856. The head-quarters Durban ; some time 
spent at the Umlazi mission-station ; occasional jour- 
neys to Maritzburg, and the more distant parts of the 
colony ; with a great deal of work in outlying stations 
where no minister was resident. It was doubtless a 
very laborious and anxious life, but would have been 
a very happy one, and would have completely satis- 
fied Mackenzie's mind, if his peace had not been 


broken by the troubles at Durban. These oppressed 
him grievously, as we have already seen ; his own per- 
fect integrity made it extremely painful to him to be 
regarded as one desirous of introducing unauthorized 
innovations into the service of the Church, and his 
kindly disposition made discord and strife most un- 
congenial ; there were also other circumstances of a 
deeply painful kind which added much to his trouble, 
but of which I deem it unnecessary to preserve any 
record. Suffice it to say, that his residence in Durban 
was by far the most trying portion of his life, and 
that he could hardly fail to rejoice when the time of 
his departure came. The change took place at the 
end of the year 1856. On being relieved of his charge, 
the Archdeacon went to Maritzburg to take the duty 
of a brother clergyman, and in the following year, as 
we shall see, he entered upon a new and very inter- 
esting field. Thither I shall be glad to follow him ; 
but before doing so, I will insert a few letters written 
during the period of his ministry at Durban. It will 
be observed that the first has been written at intervals, 
and does in fact cany us into the beginning of the 
following year. 


DuKBAN, August 1 8, 1856. 
Dear Goodwin, 

I made a tour on the coast Nortli-east of this ten 
days ago, of which I think a short notice may be interesting 
to you. It was to the same places to which I remember 
describing a former journey, six or eight months ago ; but 
what gave especial interest to this recent visit was the fact 
that the Holy Communion which I went to administer had 


not been, so ilir as I know, celebrated before by a minister 
of the Church of England in these parts. 

On Friday, August 8, I left Durban at about three 
o'clock P.M., intending to cross the Umgeni, to call at the 
house of a friend, a good churchman, and a Scotchman, 
Adams, about fifteen miles from this, to hear some details 
of the plan he has been preparing for a church at Mount 
Moreland, and to proceed thence by a hill-path to Verulam. 
On reaching the Umgeni, about four miles from Durban, 
I was overtaken by a lad named Galloway, who was looking 
for three oxen that had strayed^ and for want of which his 
father was delayed in starting with a loaded waggon to 
trade in the Zulu country. They had been seen North of 
the Umgeni, and he had ridden out to look for them. 

The Umgeni is about a quarter of a mile broad ; a 
strong flowing stream ; in some places deep enough to reach 
the saddle-flaps, in most places not higher than the horse's 
knees. There were still very distinct traces of the flood, 
which did so much damage in all the great river-valleys last 
March ; withered flags and floating rubbish of all kinds, 
that had been caught by the branches of trees, shewed that 
the stream had been some thirty feet higher, and twice 
as broad as at present. It was impassable for horses for 
about a month, and for some time after this very dangerous 
from the soft shifting sand at the bottom. 

About ten miles from the river my road to Adams' 
house turns to the right. Just at the fork of the roads 
stood a house which was in course of building at the time 
of the former journey which I described to you. Since then 
it has been burnt down, and the walls of wattle and daub 
are black and mouldering, the floor being strewed with the 
ashes of the fallen roof. I happened to pass it on the morn- 
ing after the accident, on my way to Durban, after riding 
up the coast with the Bishop last June. I found three 
little children, from five to ten years old, whom their father 
and mother had saved from the fire, with nothing but the 


slight night-dress in which they had been sleeping. I pro- 
mised them a supply of flannel from Durban, and unbridled 
from my saddle the -warm jacket which I used to use at 
home for railway travelling ; this I lent them for protection 
on the following night, as far as it would go. I knelt down 
with the little family, and used a few of the prayers in 
the little book of Common Prayer which I constantly carry 
in my waistcoat pocket, judging that whatever might be 
their ordinary custom, the unusual character of that morn- 
ing might very probably have deprived them of the blessing 
of family prayer. All this was last June. I was now 
riding past the blackened ruins at about five o'clock, a short 
hour before sunset. 

April 6, 1857. It is really quite disgraceful that this 
letter should have remained so long untouched. I shall 
not now attempt to go on with the account I was giving 
you, though 1 was coming to the important fact, that 
having dismounted that evening, and driving my horse 
before me, because he was (I thought) too tired to carry 
me, and too lazy (as I found) to follow without dragging 
in a tiresome way at his bridle, he walked away, trotting 
when I quickened my pace, and led me many miles out 
of my way, till it was quite dark, when I caught him at 
a house. I should not have liked to have lost him alto- 
gether, for he is a very useful horse ; nor even for a 
time, for he had on him the saddle which the Master and 
Fellows of Caius so kindly made a part of their very liberal 
present to me. I determined not again to drive my 
horse before me, even if it were troublesome to make him 



I want to interest you particularly in the XJmlazi mis- 
sion ; but first I ought to say, that your wish that I should 
be freed from Dui-ban is accomplished ; and the other, 
that I should be employed in Mission- work, will (I hope) 
be accomplished soon. * * * j cannot help hoping that 


some good may liave been done to individuals dm-ing my 
seventeen months' ministry. There were some fifteen persons 
confirmed last June, and I hope some good seed may have 
been sown in this and similar ways. 

* * * * * 

But to come now at last to the TJmlazi mission. Robert- 
son is a most satisfactory missionary : his heart is so 
thoroughly in his work. His Sunday services are attended 
on an average by 200 persons. Many of them sit on the 
logs of wood which serve as seats, with the chin resting 
on the hand in earnest attention. None of these has yet 
professed a wish to be baptized ; and this, I think, is well. 
I should dislike above all things going too fast : but I hope 
that when one has done so, many may follow. The grand 
stumblingblock is polygamy, which is woven in with all their 
customs and habits ; so much is this the case, that I can easily 
believe they think it impossible for a black man to live with- 
out having, or hoping to have, several wives. Well : it is in 
the hands of God, but in part it depends on the Govern- 
ment, who may (I think) do something to restrain polygamy 
for the future. Our school thrives : there are now about 
fifty children every fine day, and that is at least five in 
every six. The first class has lately improved much under 
the regular teaching of my younger sister, who is devotiug 
herself to Kafir work most assiduously. They can read 
in Kafir, when divided into syllables, and can write very 
fairly. There are three or four other classes ; one taken 
by Mrs Robertson, another by my other sister, and one by 
" Boy," as he is used to be called, but now known as 
"Abraham;" a trustworthy Kafir, who with his wife and 
children has been baptized, and is regularly employed as 
a teacher at the TJmlazi. They also sing : the Bishop has 
at the end of the prayer-book which he has prepared 
printed some Kafir hymns, and has written music to suit 
them. But their most satisfactory lesson is the Old Tes- 
tament history, which Robertson has been teaching them. 



They know and remember the history from the Creation 
to the Captivity of Joseph, and express their approbation 
or the contrary of the several acts of which they read. 

The school lasts in this way from about ten till one. 
The afternoon at the Umlazi is commonly spent in visiting 
the kraals. Robertson especially visits any who are sick. 
Perhaps you may have heard of a man, who, a little before 
Christmas, being very ill and sending specially for Kobert- 
son one morning, asked earnestly if he might come to live 
with him and to die at the station. Of course no diffi- 
culties were thrown in the way, and he remained in one 
of the huts on our hill, (which the Christian Kafir ser- 
vants gave up for his use), for two or three weeks ; and 
then, seeming to have profited by R.'s teaching, he was bap- 
tized, and soon after died. He was buried in the ground 
set apart for our future churchyard, by the side of the 
grave of a woman, a Kafir, who had also been baptized 
by E,., the wife of a white man who was employed on the 

And this mention of a prospect of a consecrated church- 
yard leads me to speak of our wish to have a church at the 
TJmlazi. Hitherto the Kafir teaching and preaching has 
been held either in a clearing in the bush near the house, 
or in a broad verandah in front of it. * * * I want to 
have a special collection for this object in Cambridge, for 
which purpose I will send you, as soon as they are ready, 
the plans of the whole, together with an estimate of ex- 
pense. We are making a similar efibrt amongst our friends 
in Scotland. I fancy we shall want about £400 or £500. 
If we can build it for anything like that sum it will be far 
cheaper than any building of its size in the colony. 




{To a Sister.) 

Ladismith, Oct. 20, 1856. 

I don't know how long it is since I wrote to you, 
or any one at home. I think a duty neglected presses less 
heavily, instead of more heavily, as it ought to do, each day 
it is neglected. Certain it is that I constantly say to my- 
self, I ought to write home, and that I have considerable 

pangs of conscience on the subject. A often reminds 

me of it, but I am afraid that advice only hardens me. 
Well, here I have begun : I will write this letter, and try 
not to let it be so long again. 

One secret of my writing to-day is that it is raining, so 
that I am not able to prosecute the journey on which I 
started seven days ago. What! you will say, afraid of the 
rain? No: but afraid of crossing the rivers, which have 
been swelled by heavy rains during last night. 

On Tuesday last, the 14th, I left Maritzburg with Mr 
Green to visit this northern portion of the diocese. I had 
never been north of P. M. B. before. So when the Bishop 
found that he could not come up this way, as he had in- 
tended, I very gladly agreed to go with Green, and try to 
fill his place as well as I could. This is not very easy, as 
one thing which makes a Bishop's visit acceptable in this 
part of the world is the hope that he will do something in 
the way of church-building, or placing a minister; and we 
were not empowered to act in this way. Still we were 
sure the people would be glad to see us, as there is no cler- 
gyman above P. M. B, and we should therefore be able to 
administer the sacraments after a vacancy of fully three 

We started about noon, having been detained by busi- 
ness : the thermometer at 92" in the shade, and I have heard 
since that it rose to 101" that day. This is much higher 



than I have known it to be before. "We spent an hour and 
a quarter in climbing the steep ascent out of the town; 
very severe work for the horses. We tried to mend a 
broken-down tree-cart in the charge of two Kafirs, but 
failed for want of a linch-pin, or any substitute for it. 
Came on to the Umgeni waterfall, said to be 300 feet high. 
Slept at the house of a farmer : arranged to hold a week- 
day service in that neighbourhood! on our return, we fixing 
the day, consulting about the hour, and leaving our hosts 
to arrange about the place of meeting and to give notice. 
On Thursday (to omit Wednesday, on which nothing oc- 
curred, except our riding along the road, and discussing 
many points, ecclesiastical and private), after seeing two farm- 
ers, one a well-to-do man, who is "entering pretty largely 
into sheep," the other a man with three or four strong sons, 
who has some thirty-nine or forty acres under the plough, 
and just now covered with fine looking bearded wheat; he 
has also a grove of orange-trees, not large, but certainly more 
numerous than any I have seen in the colony; I dare say 
there are sixty or seventy trees, of eight or nine years old, 
covered with sweet-smelling blossoms : — after all this we 
got to Doornkop, the farm of George Moodie, Green's bro- 
ther-in-law, where a large family live. They gave us two 
or three strawberries, the only ones I have seen in the 
colony. Next day, after some delay in consequence of the 
Kafir with our small luggage not having arrived, we started 
about noon. We passed the house of an old boer, about 
ninety, who asked us our names all round (we were ac- 
companied by one of the Moodies), and then began again, 
having forgotten the first when he got to the last. About 
3 o'clock we parted, Green going on with our guide to 
cross the Drakenberg, and be at Harrismith on Sunday; 
I canter Jng quietly to this place, w^hich I reached in about 
two hours. 

I spent Saturday in calling upon most of the people, 


and had satisfactory clergyman's convei'sations with one or 
two of them. I think it is easier here to get at people's 
inner thoughts : either we are drawn together by being so 
far from home; or the infrequeucy of a clergyman's visit 
makes confidence obviously necessary ; or else perhaps the 
fault in England was my own, arising from the mixture of 
my occupations. However, I have very much liked what I 
have seen of this place : it is about a hundred miles from 
P. M. B., and about fifty hence to the Berg, that is, the Dra- 
kenberg, or Dragon Mountain, which is the boundary be- 
tween this and the sovereignty. There are perhaps sixty 
houses, many of them well built of stone ; four or five shops, 
or stores, as they are called ; a magistrate, two or three 
persons connected with Govei'nment, such as clerks, clerk 
of the peace, postmaster, gaoler, a physician, five coopers 
(there is a large manufacture of butter in this grazing 
country : a man said to me to-day, " We have not much 
money, as our business is done a good deal by barter and 
on credit, but if a church could be built of butter, or for 
butter, thei'e would be no difiiculty,") a smith, a builder, 
two carpenters, and one missionary. We had a good attend- 
ance at service on Sunday morning, about sixty, though 
only eleven communicants, and a collection of £2. 10a\ id., 
which is very good; but of course v/e cannot exj)ect so 
much every time. The magistrate is gi\ang us all the help 
he can ; it is vexy satisfactory to have for the Church the 
support of the influential people in the colony. 

On the whole there is much to cheer in our work, as 
well as much to make us despond ; but I encourage the former 
feeling and repress the latter. I think our Mission-work is 
really good on the whole : of course, connected as I am with 
the Umlazi, I cannot say less than that it is the best : but 
seriously, I think there is religious Christian teaching going 
on there. One young Kafir will I hope soon be baptized ; 
and the cliildren that come to the daily school must, I 


tliink, be receiving impressions frona what they see of the 
life of a Christian family, if from nothing else, which will 
never be effaced : and even if we are only preparing the 
soil for future missionaries, it is very good to be allowed 
to do anything for Him : He knows best when the fruit 
should appear. At the Bishop's station, Ekukanyeni, the 
thirty Kafir boys have certainly made great progress in 
reading, &c. When I was there ten days ago I heard the 
first class, consisting of seven, read the Psalms for the day 
in Kafir, each taking a verse, more fluently than would be 
done in most village-schools in England. It is true that 
the language having only recently been made a written 
language is perfectly phonetic, and therefore it is easier to 
learn reading Kafir than English : but it is a grand thing to 
have thirty boys sitting as orderly as in an English school, 
learning reading and arithmetic. There were no men or 
women at the Ekukanyeni mission ; nor are there likely 
to be any : but these boys, if any of them become true 
Christians, will be very useful. 


{Accompanying the preceding.) 

Ladismith, Oct. 20, 1856. 

I inclose this in a more public letter, because I 
hardly know to which of all my friends to write first. 

I do often tliink of you all, often est I think at morning 
and evening time, and very often of you in particular when 
I am riding : for on a long journey, when I am alone, 
I very often take your little Prayer-Book from my waist- 
coat pocket, and learn one of the Psalms for the day. I 
have found great good from this. Some people think that 
thirty- one is too old to be learning by rote ; but I like it, 
because I always find new beauties in what I learn in this 


"waj. I like too to look at the pencil-marks at the side of 
particular verses which have struck you. 

I very nearly lost that little book one day. It was 
Sunday, and I was riding from one place to another to 
hold afternoon service. We got a little off the path at 

one place, and met some Kafirs, I was riding with S , 

the colonial secretary : a few miles further on he stopped at 
a house to rest his horse, and make a call, saying he would 
join me in the evening. At night he asked me what I 
had lost : I said at once, " a little book, which I value 
as much as any in my library :" so he gave it to me, say- 
ing that it had been picked up by those Kafirs and brought 
to the house where he had stopped. 

Dear , there are many things to dishearten here, 

but there is much to cheer, and most perhaps this, — that 
all the work is for our Master, who knows all things, who 
suffers with us, yet is always victorious, who rules all 
things after the counsel of His own will, and who will 
shortly come to I'eceive us to Himself : and then there 
will be no partings! God bless you, my dear sister, and 
give you joy and peace, ever increasing, in believing. 


Ekukanieni, Nov. 12, 1856. 

A has just put a pen in my hand, and told me to 

wiite down the account I gave her last night of the unto- 
ward commencement of my last journey to Durban about 
ten days ago. 

I left the mission-station on a Friday, in the middle of 
the day, to spend an hour or two in P. M. B. and then start 
for Durban. I was very anxious to be in Durban early on 
the Saturday, as I had matters to arrange before Sunday. I 
intended originally to ride halfway on the Friday, but as 
time went on compounded with myself, and said I would 


get to Camperdown, about 15 miles, before dark. Dr S ■ 

said to me, "Do not be later in starting than 4 o'clock: it 
will be a very dark night." Well : I was in Mr Green's 
house : it was looking dreary and drizzling : I had to step 
across the street to see , and I had to close my port- 
manteau, and then to talk over matters with Green. So I 
let time pass, till it got to be about 6 o'clock. Then at last 
I left his house, and went for the horse I had in my eye to 
hire. (My own horse has a sore back, and I have not been 
able to ride him for weeks.) But the horsedealer said his 
foot was chafed, and I could not have him : so I had to send 
elsewhere for one. Time was lost in this way, so that it 
was eight o'clock before I was riding on the top of my horse, 
(as the Kafirs say,) and fairly leaving the town. The ani- 
mal was evidently not accustomed to gentlemen who had a 
fancy to wearing very long plaids, and started a little as I 

unfolded the huge one • gave me ; but he got used to it 

by degrees. In a quarter of an hour he came to a dead 
stop, and I coidd just see before his nose the wall that had 
been put to stop people from going on the broken bridge 
(which fell last April); so we turned and crossed safely the 
temporary bridge a few yards off. Now, thought I, the 
river is crossed, it's all right. From this place there is a 
tedious hill to climb, with three or four sluits, that is, small 
streams, to cross. My horse pretended to have conscien- 
tious scruples about cantering in the dark, making one or 
two stumbles by way of demonstration. So it ended in our 
agreeing that if he would keep on walking, I should reserve 
a quicker pace for next day. After we had been out, as I 
thought, about an hour, I saw a light ahead in the distance. 
I first satisfied myself that it was not a firefly, of which I 
had seen several; and when a second appeared, it flashed 
upon me that it was Maritzburg, to which my horse was 
slowly returning ! I said at once aloixd. Come, this is too 
bad! and turned him right round, falsely concluding that 
the opposite of wrong must be right. I could remember, 


for about two miles, that I had just passed over this part of 
the road. Well, on I went : it was veiy dreary, and I 
could see that there was mist before me into which I was 
entering: when at last I came to a house, apparently new 
built. I addressed the inhabitants both in English and in 
Kafir, and dismounting found there was no one there : but 
thus much I learned, that I was certainly on a wrong road, 
for I knew there was no such house on the right one. I 
crossed a little stream with some difficulty, and got at last 
to a Kafir kraal. There was a salute of dogs barking to 
welcome me, and on the owner shewing himself, I asked 
where the waggon-road was, and who would go to shew it to 
me. They said it was a long way ofi", over there (pointing). 
It was too far for any of the boj^s to go, but they would 
lead me to a Dutchman's house — what would I give ? If it 
had not been for my horse, I would as soon have stayed 
with them till morning : but he, poor fellow, could not have 
crept into a hut as I could. So I ofiered sixpence for a 
guide to the Dutchman's. I had ofiered sixpence, and then 
a shilling, for a guide to the road, but the man seemed afraid 
to trust his boys so far in the dark. Two little boys accord- 
ingly ran befoi-e me, each in a blanket, and we knocked up 
the Dutchman. He said the canteen (public-house) was not 
far off, and one of his Kafirs led me thither. I found it was 
one o'clock, and I was nine miles from P. M. B. I turned 
into bed, being very wet, desiring to be called the first thing 
in the morning: not, however, without wishing many happy 
and good returns of the birthday of my very dear sister, of 
whose birthday one hour had elapsed. 


In January, 1857, Arclideacon Mackenzie with his 
sister returned to Durban. This was for a short time 
their home, although the Archdeacon had ceased to 
be the minister of the place ; his work was now of an 
unsettled kind, partly along the coast, partly at Pine 
Town ; it was still to be determined where they should 
permanently fix themselves, and devote themselves, as 
they desired, to Mission- work. 

The wandering life of her brother, and his constant 
absence from home, made a residence in Durban, which 
would otherwise have been quite delightful, somewhat 
desolate to Miss Mackenzie ; and towards the end of 
January she again went on a visit to the interesting 
Umlazi mission-station, while her brother was obliged 
to go to Maritzburg. 

I mention this visit to the Umlazi, because it was 
during the visit that the Archdeacon's party was in- 
creased by the arrival of a second sister, who proved 
a most valuable addition from a missionary point of 
view, and also added much to the happiness of the 
family circle. Of this lady it would manifestly be im- 


proper to say much in this memoir ; I will simply 
remark that she appears to have given herself at once 
to missionary work with wonderful zeal and consider- 
able success. Mackenzie was wont to distinguish her 
as his hlack sister, in consequence of her enthusiastic 
love for the native race. 

It was at the end of February that Miss Alice 
Mackenzie arrived. The Archdeacon was at the Um- 
lazi, and was prepared, on hearing of the ship, to go 
down at once with Miss Mackenzie to welcome the 
new comer, and bring her up to the Umlazi. Un- 
fortunately, just before the arrival of the vessel, Miss 
Mackenzie was taken ill, and was unable to perform 
the journey, but the Archdeacon, not being able, as 
his sister remarks in relating the incident, to see diffi- 
culties, started for Durban as soon as the news of the 
Admiral's amval was made known, and brought his 
sister up immediately, in the dark, to join the party at 
the Umlazi. It is amusing to find her in a letter to 
friends at home describing this nocturnal journey with 
great enthusiasm : at one time her horse lagged be- 
hind in the middle of a river to drink : " it was 
wonderfully pleasant," she writes, " to be sitting alone 
in the dark in the middle of an African river ; the 
reeds higher than myself on either side of the water ; 
the sweet soft air blowing gently round, full of the 
chirping of strange frogs, and the fire-flies glancing 
round in all directions." Speaking of her brother in 
the same letter she says : " He is very much what 
he was in face : looks rather older, but strong and 
well, and his bright look, his ready merry laugh, and 


his winning ways are much as of old. His kindness to 
both children and natives is also pleasant to witness. 
His tenderness both to A and me indescribable." 

An amusing incident was connected with the land- 
ing of Miss Alice Mackenzie. The Archdeacon requested 
that a telegraphic signal should be made to the ship, 
to the effect that his sister should come on shore at once. 
A difficulty however suggested itself, namely, how to 
distinguish the lady by any telegraphic signal : fortu- 
nately there was a signal corresponding to the name 
of a ship, the Sir Alexander Mackenzie; and the 
message was duly sent, that Sir Alexander Mackenzie 
was to come on shore in the first boat. The message 
was understood, and under the imposing title of Sir 
Alexander, Miss Alice Mackenzie landed in the country 
of her adoption. 

Here is a passage from a letter in which Miss 
Mackenzie speaks of her sister's arrival, and which I 
introduce chiefly for the sake of the mention of the 
Kafir woman's kindly feeling : " I cannot express the 
grief it was to me to be ill and unable to go and 
meet her, and being very weak I could not help crying ; 
for besides the uncertainty when we should meet, (I 
never imagined she could ride ten miles, the last part 
in the dark, and a large river at the end of the 
journey,) I was disappointed that her first impressions 
should not be in our own home ; but it has all ended 
well. In the morning, when the tears were running 
down my face, Pangela, my dear Kafir woman, came 
into the room, and kneeling at a chair, she began 
kissing my hands, and in her own language saying. 


(it was so like poetry,) " Husli ! dear Inkosazan : hush ! 
your sister has arrived : hush ! hush ! dear Inkosazan, 
hush : she has passed the dangers of the sea : she is 
now on the land : hush, dear Inkosazan : it is good to 
pass from the sea to the land : hush, hush, Inkosazan, 
hush !" 

It would be deviating from the chief purpose of 
this memoir, to go into details concerning the TJm- 
lazi mission, which, though specially dear to Mackenzie, 
was not his own principal work : but I think I shall 
be justified in giving the following picture of the work 
going on there, and in which both the Archdeacon and 
his sisters took their shares. 

" I have just returned," writes Miss Alice Mackenzie, 
" from my first Kafir Sunday service, and my heart is 
full. The service took place in a clearing in the bush. 
Trunks of felled trees served the people for seats : the 
men, about sixty or seventy, on one side ; the women, 
thirty or forty, on the other : the school-children ranged 
in two rows in front. The two clergymen in their 
surplices stood on a rude framework of rough wood. 
I had a place close by. The rest of the company were 
higher up the bank, behind the congregation. The 
prayers began with the sentences and confession : the 
twenty-third Psalm was sung : also a sweet thing be- 
ginning Jahulani, 'Rejoice ye,' and very rejoicing and 
sweet it did sound. Another hymn was sung to my 
dear old friend Martyrdom: and the effect was curi- 
ously beautiful, the more so, as I had just before said 
to Mrs Robertson that the scene and the gathering 
might have represented a meeting of Covenanters in 


the days of old. A lesson from the Bible was read. 
It was on the Resurrection : but I am sorry to say 
I missed the thread of it, and could not make out what 
it was at the time. The sermon was much easier, 
for each sentence was repeated again and again, either 
in the same words, or with but a slight difference, so that 
I could understand a good deal of it. He said he was 
going to speak to them of the love of God, and repeated 
again and again how men love their own children, bad 
as well as good ; that God in Heaven is the Father of 
us all, and loves us all so much that He sent His 
only Son to die for us all. He repeated to them again 
and again the last two verses of S. Matthew xxviii., 
(the Bible lesson he had read before,) and then spoke 
to them of the privileges of those who are baptized, 
becoming members of Christ, &c., and then went on, 
' and we are sent to tell you of these things ; to bap- 
tize you, that you may not perish, but have everlasting 
life.' The whole was interspersed with earnest ex- 
hortations : ' Listen, my children : the words I speak 
are not mine, but they are the words of our Lord 
and Saviour Jesus Christ. He who believeth and is 
baptized, shall be saved.' His earnest look to heaven 
when he said this was most touching. Then he shewed 
how everything on earth and of earth must pass away 
and perish and retarn to dust ; but the heart within 
us that thinks and remembers and loves will not pass 
away : the things of heaven will never perish. And then 
again, to the little school-children : ' Listen, listen, my 
children:' urging all to love God, to love one another, 
to believe and be baptized. It was very beautiful, and 


all sat so quiet : only now and then a little restlessness 
among some of the small children, stilled in a moment 
by his gentle admonition. The Archdeacon read part 
of the prayers, and chiefly led the music. After a few 
more prayers the elders were for the most part dis- 
missed : the children, the Christian men and women, 
gathered round the pulpit to be catechized. They were 
asked and answered at once, Who made them? Who 
saved them ? Who sanctifies them ? and they were 
taught to repeat the first verse of the 100th Psalm, 
then to sing it ; then a few more Collects, winding up 
with ' Lighten our darkness, &c.' and the Lord's Prayer ; 
and then the blessing, 'The Lord bless us and keep 
us, &c.;' and I did feel that God's blessing must and 
would rest upon such loving earnest labours." 

This life at the Umlazi was sufficiently pleasant, 
but still was uncertain and unsettled. In the beginning 
of March I find Miss Mackenzie writing, " I shall be 
very glad when we have a home of our own again ; 
and this state of uncertainty is very trying. We do 
not in the least know whether we are to have a mis- 
sion-station, or to go back to Durban, or what ; and the 
worst of it is, it all depends so much on circumstances, 
that we are not likely to be wiser for a long time." 
However a plan was arranged at last: the Archdeacon 
went to Maritzburg to assist at an ordination, and on 
April 1 he returned to the Umlazi with the news 
that the Bishop had consented that he should take a 
post now vacant at the Umhlali, about forty miles 
north of Durban. It was uncertain in the first instance 
whether this would be a permanent an-angement; such 


however it proved to be, and the Umhlali continued 
to be the Archdeacon's spiritual cure until he left the 
colony of Natal. 

With characteristic energy Mackenzie undertook 
without delay to reconnoitre his intended abode : he 
arrived at the Umlazi one night unexpectedly from 
Maritzburg "wet, weary, and cold," and after a day's 
rest started again to pioneer the way to the new 
settlement. The reader will understand its position 
by reference to the map. The station combined several 
opportunities for usefulness. In the first place, the 
district, which was to be the parish, comprised a con- 
siderable number of scattered English congregations, 
which could only receive an adequate supply of spiri- 
tual ministrations from a man of Mackenzie's strength 
and energy. In the second place, the station was in 
the immediate neighbourhood of the camp, and the 
soldiers would fall under his charge. And in the third 
place, he would have abundant opportunities of carry- 
ing on the work of evangelization amongst the natives. 
In fact, there would be abundance of occupation for 
himself and for his sisters, both hlack and ivhite. 

The Archdeacon found that it was necessary to 
build huts at the Umhlali for himself and his party. 
This necessity occasioned some further delay before the 
migi'ation could take place, for though hut-building 
is not a very serious process, still it requires some time. 
Accordingly May arrived before all things were ready. 
All this while the Archdeacon had been tenant of his 
old house in Durban ; and here his goods and chattels 
had been stowed away, very much, it is to be feared, 



to the benefit of the white-ants and fish-moths. A 
fortnight before coming to the UmhlaH the sisters 
made an attack upon the old house, and had a grand 
turn-out, packing, arranging, and cataloguing, pre- 
paratory to the migration. Meanwhile poor Mackenzie 
had literally no home, but wandered about, doing his 
work as best he might, and living as best he could. 
Here is a passage from a letter which will bring the 
whole state of things before us. ^ — ., 

"Dear Charles is leading a very wearing out and 
rather unsatisfactory life at present, both to himself 
and his horse (which is however in much the worse 
condition of the two), but I hope it will soon come 
to an end. We are preparing to join him at the 
Umhlali, which is forty miles from Durban, and fifty 
from the Umlazi. He has five services on Sunday, 
and one of them is eighteen miles from another ; these 
eighteen miles he has to ride hurriedly in the mid-day 
sun, and for the last several weeks he has ridden to the 
Umhlali on Saturday, and returned here on Monday : 
this he does not like, as it interferes with his parish- 
work of visiting, but at present it is absolutely neces- 
sary. I hope at the Umhlali he will have more time 
for writing, for I have a letter which he began to 

Mr , last August, and he will not be able to 

finish it for this mail. I must make you a plan of 
our house when we are settled there ; we are each to 
sleep in a round bee-hive Kafir hut, but Charles is in- 
dulging me with a small window of four little panes. 
I told him I had never heard of a kitchen, or any 
place except the sitting-room, where our dinner could 



be cooked : so he said, "Ola cook -house can be put 
up in half a day : there is no difficulty in that." When- 
ever we discuss whether it will be feasible to stow , 
away things, such as boxes, books, &c., Charles always \ 
says, ' ! we can sling a shelf from the roof for them/ 
which has grown into slinging the articles themselves; 
and to-day, when we were admiring my beautiful gilt j 
vase, Charles suggested that it should be made a sub-^' 
stitute for a chandelier." 

The first of June found the party at last more or 
less settled at the Umhlali station, some of the mem- 
bers of the family "hutted" for sleeping purposes, and 
all occupying in common a small house, which also 
served the purpose of a church. The life was rough 
enough, and besides the usual inconveniences of white- 
ants and fish-moths, and the depredations of rats, I 
find frequent notices in the home-letters of such addi- 
tional discomforts as the following : tiger-cats constantly 
stealing the poultry, puff-adders and such like venom- 
ous beasts finding their way into the huts, toads in the 
washing basins, and huts flooded by violent rains \ 

^ Here are a few little passing notices by way of illustration. ' ' I saw," 
says Miss Alice Mackenzie in one of her letters, "a small scorpion for 
the first time on Sunday. I could not help laughing when my sister, 
who was looking at it, said to the Archdeacon, ' It is not so large as 
that which I found upon your whiskers ! ' " " It is a curious specimen 
of our manner of life here that the frequent breaking of glasses and cups 

is apt to leave us short. Yesterday Mrs. A said to me after dinner, 

'I have only two wine-glasses: all the rest are broken.' To which I an- 
swered, ' We have only one ; our last but one was broken yesterday.' " 
" A tiger-cat has visited us two nights and carried off a hen, the last of 
the three we took such care of in London, and another great pet, a 
cock of the Spanish kind." 


Moreover the site of the house and church was not 
well chosen, and the station had not the advantage of 
a picturesque view; this however was subsequently 
remedied, though in a very unpleasant and expensive 
manner, as will be seen. "But home is home though 
never so homely, and no home could be more peace- 
able, happy, and even joyous, than the Archdeacon's 
home at the Umhlali. In one of his sister's letters 
there is an account of an especially disagreeable person, 
and the remark is added, " I think Charles as nearly 
dislikes her, as it is possible for him to dislike any 
one." With such a disposition, Avith his time fully 
employed upon a gi'eat work, and with a conscious- 
ness of doing all for Christ, how could Mackenzie be 
otherwise than happy? 

"Here we are," writes Miss Mackenzie, "settled for 
the present at our new quarters, and very funny ones 
they are, Mr Adams, who has been our only visitor, 
and who was helping me to shut a drawer, was in de- 
spair at my room, and said it was only fit for lumber. 
Alice is in a Kafir hut, an oval shaped one, with a 
grey Kafir blanket hung up at the doorway, and an 
open space for a window, which when she is cold she 
fills up with a plaid. Both door and window are 
ordered ; but nothing in this colony is done in a hurry. 
The ground of her hut is the earth, covered with mats. 
The Ai'chdeacon's hut has only the framework made, 
and I don't know why the Kafirs are not thatching it. 
He sleeps for the present on the sofa in the sitting- 
room (an iron bed, with a chintz covering over it). 
It is not a large room ; about twelve feet square. * * * 



The rest of our house is a long room about twenty-eight 
feet by twelve. This is the church of the district, till 
another is built, and Charles uses the sitting-room as 
a vestry, and enters the church by a door opening from 
it. The congregation have a door for themselves. 
There are two verandah rooms Mine is about five 
feet by ten, and Jessie's, which is also the pantry, about 
five feet by twenty. They are very rough indeed, and 
what is worse, the roof slopes less than the church; so 
they do not keep out the rain : but we have still two 
months of dry weather to reckon upon ; and I am so 
thankful to have mine, for it has an opening at the 
top of the wall to the church, for the sake of ventila- 
tion; but when I am ill and in bed I can join in the 
service in the church." 

In the same letter there is the following notice of 
the Archdeacon's work. 

" At present I fear there will be no change. His 
Sunday labours are very intense. He has short early 
Kafir prayers, then breakfast at half-past seven. Full 
service, at the camp, for the soldiers at nine. It is 
about two miles off. As soon as he comes back the 
congregation is assembling here, and his horse is sad- 
dled for him to mount as soon as the service is over. 
He has another service at Mount Moreland, about six- 
teen miles off, at three p.m. In coming here he shewed 
us the spot where his horse always knows he may 
walk instead of trotting, to allow him to eat his dinner 
of sandwiches. This ride in the hot sun is very knock- 
ing up, both for him and his horse. He told us he 
was in similar circumstances to Elijah, as the brook he 


used to drink from was now dried up. His horse is 
again ready for him when this service is over, and he 
rides to Verulam, either four or six miles, I forget 

which, where he has service at six P.M. in Mr 's 

house. He goes to sup with a kind Dutch lady, and 

spends the night with Mr . This is Monday, and 

it is getting dark, and he has not returned, and he 
tells us perhaps he may not always return home till 
Tuesday, but do parish visiting work at that end of his 
parish while he is there." '-' 

The work in which Mackenzie was now engaged 
was undoubtedly very arduous, and seems to have told 
somewhat on his strength. Some months later I find 
his sister writing thus : 

" I am beginning and trying not to think so much 
either of likes or dislikes, but how we may make the 
best use of all our talents under present circumstances ; 
but still nature says, without my asking it, that this 
is the least pleasant part of Natal that I have been in. 
By and bye if we are allowed to see more of the fruits 
of the Archdeacon's work, I shall be thankful; but 
whether we see it or not, God cannot fail to bless his 
earnest and singleminded labours; here however as 
everywhere the harvest is so great, and it is not much 
that he can do with either the black or the white 
people. All last week he was at P. M. B. He went up 
to the consecration of the cathedral, but business of 
other kinds detained him till Friday at five P.M. He 
rode all night to Durban, fifty miles, where he had 
more business, which detained him till the afternoon, 
and he did not reach this place till Sunday at two A.M. 


We had supper on the table all ready for him, and the 
sofa arranged as his bed. He was very tired, but was 
up again for Kafir prayers before seven. We had a 
short talk with him during breakfast, and he left us 
again as usual after church, but promised not to be 
late in coming home to-day." 

The complaint concerning the situation of the 
house at the Umhlali, which occurs incidentally above, 
is repeated not unfrequently in the home -letters. 
" Certainly," writes Miss Mackenzie, " our house is 
placed where no Kafir would have planted his kraal; 
far from wood, bush, water, and hills, in a bleak bare 
plain, and a cold visible mist rises from what is called 
a fley, or wet valley, near, which we sometimes see 
coming towards us, and a cold damp shiver comes 
over me, and a pain in my bones and eyes; and this 
succeeds probably a broiling sun, which nearly drove 
me distracted with headache a few days ago." How- 
ever, the situation had the advantage of being very 
healthy, and the medical man attached to the camp 
assured the Mackenzie party that the daily average of 
sick soldiers was only -^j of a man. 

Amongst the white population the soldiers were 
some of the Archdeacon's most interesting parishioners. 
His manner and bearing were peculiarly suited for 
winning the hearts of soldiers, and there is reason to 
believe that they thoroughly appreciated his efforts on 
their behalf His great desire was to fill up their 
leisure time and tempt them away from the canteen. 
For this purpose he opened a room for them in the 
evening, which he supplied with such amusing books 


and papers as he could, and the evenings were some- 
times enlivened by popular lectures. 

It Avill be understood that the work of influencincr 
the natives by going amongst their kraals, and per- 
suading them to send their children to be taught, was 
constantly carried on ; but in addition to this, the Arch- 
deacon and his sisters opened a school for the white 
children, of whom a considerable number were within 
reach. And thus the time of all three was thoroughly 
occupied, and notwithstanding the rough and laborious 
character of the life which they led, time passed plea- 
santly enough. " Is not this a happy life ?" writes one 
of the sisters enthusiastically, after describing in a 
letter the details of one day's employment. 

Towards the end of July in this year a sad calamity 
happened to the Umhlali Missionary party. The house 
which they occupied was thatched, and the thatch was 
exposed inside the house as well as outside ; a careless 
person placed a candle upon a shelf with the flame 
under the thatch ; the result was immediate, and in a 
few minutes the house was on fire. The materials, 
being very dry, burnt with great rapidity ; and it re- 
quired mach effort to save any considerable portion 
of the effects. The kindness of the Archdeacon to the 
soldiers now served him in good stead ; some of them 
were coming to the reading-room when the fire broke out ; 
the alarm was given, and soon fifty soldiers were on the 
ground, working with all their might. Much was saved, 
some property was lost ; but all was borne cheerfully. 
One of the Kafirs came to the Archdeacon to know 
where they were to sleep, as they feared lest the sparks 


should set fire to their hut ; " There is my house," said 
the Archdeacon, pointing to the ruin, " you may take 
possession of it if you like." "O Inkos," replied the 
Kafir, " I do not know how to laugh to-night." The 
fire began about five P.M., and within three hours they 
were all assembled in a hut which had survived, en- 
joying their tea and a cake which had been saved from 
the fire : then they joined in their evening service, and 
returned thanks for all God's mercies to them. 

The fire was however for a long time a source of 
considerable annoyance. In one respect it was a bene- 
fit : having to build a new house it was as convenient 
to build it upon a good site as upon a bad one, and 
the disadvantages of the old situation, which have been 
already alluded to, were remedied by the purchase of 
a plot of ground in a much prettier neighbourhood, 
nearer the sea, in the midst of the native kraals, and 
in the centre of the Bush. But after having obtained 
the ground, it was not so easy to get the house built. 
The plan was soon made, and was sufficiently simple ; 
but some of the materials had to be brought from a 
distance, and it is very difficult in such circumstances 
as those in which the Mackenzies were placed to get 
work regularly performed, and to keep contractors to 
their bargains. And so it came to pass, that the house 
progressed very slowly, and it was not until the be- 
ginning of the following year, 1858, that the party 
entered upon their new house, which was even then 
in a most unfinished state. Meanwhile, they lived as 
well as they could in huts and tents : the soldiers 
were permitted by the commanding officer to work 


for them, and the huts and tents were made as com- 
fortable as circumstances would j)ermit. Neverthe- 
less, that hut-life possesses some minor inconvenience 
may be judged from such passing notices as the fol- 
lowing : " Dec. 9. Our candle is being constantly 
put out by large moths ; I have an enormous locust 
wrapped up in my handkerchief; and the table is 
covered with beetles ; but mercifully we have very few 

The accident of the fire did not prevent the Arch- 
deacon from exercising hospitality. When the party 
was reduced to residence in huts, the female portion 
considered that all visits of friends were out of the 
question, were altogether beyond argument. Not so 
the Archdeacon, who never saw difficulties in matters 
of this kind, or in much gi-eater ones. A young friend 
had been engaged to come and see them ; and by 
shifting beds, mealie bags, and barrels, accommodation 
was provided, Mackenzie erecting an extemporaneous 
bed for the stranger in his own tent. Having got thus 
far, it was considered possible to lodge their friend 
Mr Adams. Next came the Dean of Maritzburg. And 
so by a course of gentle progress, Mackenzie prepared 
the minds of his sisters for a visit from the Bishop, 
which accordingly took place in August, after having 
been voted impossible and absurd. 

Meanwhile the economic arrangements of the party 
were somewhat peculiar. They were paying rent for 
two houses, one at Durban still on their hands, and 
that which was burnt, while they were themselves in- 
habiting two huts and two tents, and rejoicing in the 


proprietorship of four or five acres of land, upon which 
they found it impossible to expedite the erection of 
the more permanent and comfortable dwelling for which 
the contract was taken. They bought the land more- 
over, and contracted for building, with the feeling that 
in all probability before the house was inhabited they 
might be under the necessity of moving elsewhere. 
However, all was sunshine with the Archdeacon at the 
head of affairs : it was, as I can testify from experience, 
impossible to be down-hearted in his gentle and joyous 
company; and accordingl}'-, all the inconveniences and 
vexations were laughed at, and the real work of the 
Gospel went on unhindered. 

I cannot refrain from inserting here a description 
of his character as it appeared to one of his sisters 
during the residence at the Umhlali. "Your letters 
came yesterday, after Charles was gone ; and he is 
not to be back this week, as he is going on a round 
of services in desert places, and will be back on 
Monday night, this day week. He sometimes says 
he wonders he is never ill ; but I think his heavenly 
spirit does not need the discipline. It seems to me, 
we are all like those creatures that play upon or live in 
the water. Some never need go down into it, but skim 
over the top, their wings always free, and they always 
breathing the upper air. These are they whose lives 
of retirement, in a sick room or otherwise, save them 
from mixing with the temptations and trials of active 
life. Others, again, are by circumstances hustled a good 
deal, and have to come up every now and then to the 
top of the water to breathe. But he is like those 


creatures, which live in the water, but carry their own 
stock of air down with them, (water-spiders I think 
they are, which carry down the air and live as if in 
a divingbell). He mixes with the world because he 
must, and he leads such an active life as would be 
distracting to most people ; and yet he carries his own 
heavenly atmosphere around him, and breathes the 
air of Heaven as freely and purely as though he never 
went down into the water at all. And his influence 
is telling here. One man, a careless person enough 
himself, said the other day, 'If the Ai'chdeacon does 
not succeed in carrying any of the Umhlali people with 
him to heaven, at least he is sure of going there 
himself I liked to hear it, as a symptom of the im- 
pression his character makes. But the attendance at 
church is so improved, and it is encouraging to see the 
increase in the number of communicants ; and then I 
always remember that influence in a place like this 
is like training a little twig, which will one day grow 
into a strong great tree." 

Mackenzie was never (as has been remarked before) 
a good correspondent; but this portion of his life is 
more than usually bare of letters. No doubt the con- 
stant moving from place to place in his large parish 
interfered excessively with opportunities of writing. 
The letters written home from the Umhlali by his 
sisters contain a gi'eat amount of matter most inte- 
resting with respect to the general work and daily 
life at the station ; but so far as Mackenzie himself is 
concerned, they are too frequently filled with lamenta- 
tions concerning his absence, and the intensity of the 


work which he thought it right to undertake. I have, 
however, some letters before me, which belong to this 
date, and from them I will here introduce two or three 
which will be rendered intelligible by the narrative 
which I have already given. 

Here is a scrap of a letter written from the Umhlali 
to one of his sisters at the Umlazi. 

April 11, 1857. 

His love, if we could enter fiillj into it, is indeed enough 
to satisfy us. His work enough to occupy us. His care 
enough to assure us of safety and give us peace. Would 
that we were always resting on Him, and not letting list- 
lessness or sin of any kind, or any earthly love or allure- 
ment, come between us and our love ! Happy indeed we 
may and ought all of us, far and near, to be in Him. And 
if we are seeking this peace, He will, whether we attain to 
it rapidly or not, be making us at least to grow. I am 
thinking of myself when I say this. 


{To a Sister.) 

Durban, Aug. 10, 1857. 
My own dear , 

I hope you have got safely my letter, written at 
Ladismith, and I would now give something to be able to 
insert a letter in each of the mails between this and you. I 
must try, however, not to get again so neglectful as I have 
been. It has really not been want of time, (though, to be 
sure, the exact time in which it would be best to write a 
homedetter never seemed to come,) so much as that objects 
close at hand seemed always to claim attention. 

I spent three hours this morning with our excellent 


friend Adams, (whose name you are siu'e to know,) arrang- 
ing the details of our new house. It is to have five rooms : 

each twelve feet wide, the middle one sixteen feet long, the 
others ten and nine, and a verandah all round. The walls 
are to be nine feet high, of green, that is, sun-dried bricks. 
I stipulated this morning for a piece of timber to be built 
into the wall, all round each room, at a convenient height 
for nails; else we should have knocked down our walls by 
driving nails into them. The whole is to cost when plas- 
tered, (but not floored, by the bye; I have forgotten about 
that,) certainly within £90, — the rent for one year, I sup- 
pose, of many a house in Edinburgh. And if you say that 
a house in Edinburgh is so high from its situation, I will 
back our situation against any in the town, for a view, and 
for the advantageous \'isiting of our parishioners, black and 
white. We have the sea before us, with swelling, undulat- 
ing hills for two miles between ixs and it, clothed with 
natural wood, and studded with kraals, while our white 
population is all behind us, on the cleared but less beautiful 
ground on which we have ourselves been living for the last 
few months. 

But neither the house nor the view are worthy of the 
inhabitants, (of course the present company, — I am alone, — 
is excepted,) I mean that the view inside, when I sit with 
my two sisters, far surpasses the view outside. 

■X- *•;:-* * 

I expected the Bishop from P. M. -B., but he has altered 
his plans, and is not to be down till Wednesday. We bad a 
laugh on Saturday night about the spare bed in my tent. At 


first after the fire, A was impressing on me the impossi- 
bility of having visitors. I was in one tent, with many boxes 
and some stores. Another tent was occupied by stores ; and 
the two huts by the females of our establishment, then five 
in number. So I said little : but when Frank Galloway 

was to come up for his sister Polly, though I knew A 

expected him to come and go the same day, I arranged for 
him to sleep, as we had originally (before the fire) intended. 
I borrowed a cartel to support a mattrass for him, and so 
his bed was made in the tent. Then Mr Adams was coming 
to see us : where could he sleep 1 O, what did for Frank 
would do for him. So it was. Then we expected the Dean. 

A proposed to take up her abode in the tent, and give up 

the drawing-room with its two sofas to him and me : but I 
would not hear of it, a.nd when the Dean and I arrived on a 
Saturday about midnight, we stowed ourselves away very 
liappily in the tent ; having first partaken of a slight supper, 
each sitting on his own bed, and the loaf, beef, bottle, &c. 
being on the box that served as a basin-stand. And now 
we expect the Bishop on his visitation tour : and I have 
had no difficulty in persuading them that he can surely sleep 
where the Dean did. ■ They used to speak in Durban of the 
thin end of the wedge. I think Frank Galloway certainly 
was that. 

I am so glad to get the bill for £37. 6s. That will go 
well on towards finishing the chancel of the Umlazi church. 
The Dean and I spent an evening in arranging the dimen- 
sions and materials of a church for the Umhlali. It is to 
])e 57 feet from end to end, and to cost (say) .£140, and 
hold over 100 people. The civil population is now aboiit 
fifty, and nearly fifty of the troops attend regularly. Be- 
sides these buildings, the bricks are on the ground to build 
a little church at Mount Moreland, to cost about £50 or 
£60. I think you must admit that the churches under my 
eye have not been extravagant. Pine Town, bviiltj all 
finished, except the plaster inside; cost about £210. Clare- 


mont, a wooden-building, witli seats for about forty, cost 
about ^35 : this has been in use for more than a yeai*. The 
Isipingo, in use, cost £b5 : not quite finished. The Umlazi 
church is to cost about £90. This will be larger than any 
of the others. We want it to contain 400 persons. 

I hope you will not think this too business-like an 
epistle. It is almost too near the time of the closing of the 
mail to let one write freely ; besides, T have still about me 
the feeling that I have not hitherto written so often as I 
ought. Still you will believe me when I say that it is a 
pleasure, a great pleasure, to write : and I need not tell you 
what a pleasure it is to hear from you. 

Your ever loving brother, 

C. F. M. 


{To the same.) 

Umhlali, Nov. 5, 1S57. 
Dear , 

Many happy returns of your birthday to you, my 
own dear sister. We drank your health on the first, and 
I rejoiced more than ever before at its coming on All Saints' 
Day. It is very happy while we are Avishing you all good 
gifts in His good providence, to be thanking Him too for 
His saints that have gone before : the great multitude which 
no man can number, of all peojjle nations and languages, 

praising God! Dear , may we all be joined to that 

blessed company, and may we now be learning the language 
and the manners of the heavenly Jerusalem. 

I don't think I have written to you since I sent from 

Durban the stick which gives to , along (it is now 

!Nov. 9) with a common stick of my own, which is for you. 
I have often trudged with it through the sands of Durban, 
and was using it that very morning, on which I despatched 

the rhinoceros stick for . So I thought it would 

serve the double purpose of helping to save and strengthen 


the precious stick, and also of conveying to you a good shake 
of the hand. I think it would probably have some sand on 
it when it arrived ; at least I know there was a good deal 
on it when I packed it up; I rolled it up just as it was, 
with the same feelings as actuated those who buried Sir 
John Moore. 

I have been carried on so far by the paragraph which 
I began four days ago. I write now specially to catch this 
mail, as being an opportunity I think I never had before, of 
writing to you when you had not written to me. Your 
letters are such a treat to us all, and you are so constant 
and regular, that you will understand my joke of catching 
so special an occasion to write to you. 

Yovi speak of our being at the ITmhlali as a thing in 
which you can acquiesce, in the conviction that we shall 
soon be moved from it. But really I think we are useful 
here, and I am sure we ought to be happy. You know that 
we came here at my especial request to the Bishop, and with 
the full approval of the Dean, who quite confirmed my own 
notion that it was the proper place for me. You have heard 
by this time that we have got into Kafir woi'k here; though 
perhaps the latest letters may have given you the impres- 
sion, (and if so, I must confess it would be a true impres- 
sion,) that the Kafir work is rather going back at present. 
But we are looking forward to increased opportunities 
when we get to our new house on the hill. The white 
work, however, in this district is really important. My 
only regret is, that I cannot make more of my Sunday than 
I do. I wish I could say like Joshua, " Sun, stand thou 
still ! " There have been four sudden deaths in the last few 
weeks : one up the country, and three on the coast. One at 
the Umlazi; Fea, the white man who built our buildings 
there, and who was making bricks for the church : one in 

Durban : and one in my own district or parish, a Mr , 

who met with an accident while riding on a Sunday, and 
died on the Tuesday. He had not had an opportunity of 


goiug to church nearer than ten miles, since he went to his 
farm, more than a year ago ; and, I fancy, had neither been 
at church, nor received the Holy Communion (though a com- 
municant), during that time. I am veiy anxious to establish 
a monthly service, if nothing better, in his neighbourhood. 
He, poor man, (as we say,) is gone; but there are others. 
It will be, however, at the exj^jense of a service somewhere 
else; I almost fear, at the expense of the Umhlali. 

I was stopping for a few moments just now, having been 
wi-iting like a steam-engine, when Guafu, who was laying 
the cloth for dinner, enquired politely, " Do I stand in your 
light?" I said, " No." He is a fine fellow. I wish you could 
be present at our morning or evening prayers sometimes, to 
observe how well (compared with the others at least) he 
remembers what we have been reading about lately. We 
are at Acts xii. just now. When we came to the death of 
James, I told them the names of Simon and Andrew, John 
and James, as the four chief AjDOstles. He and Bafuti can 
remember the other three, but always forget the name of 
S. Andrew. I think they are struck with the endurance 
even unto death of the early teachers. 

Good bye. God bless you now and evermore. 
Your affectionate brother, 

and fiiend and fellow Christian, 

C. F. M. 


{To his Eldest Sister.) 

Umhlali, Jan. 6, 1858. 

Dear , 

* % •» * * 

Your letters are not only very pleasant, but very good 
for us. They sometimes keep up spirits that have been 
flagging (not mine), and they bind us very closely together. 
I often think of you in my long rides : last night, for in- 
stance, I got home about half-past eleven, having had Orion 



and Jupiter as my companions, as well as our glorious Cross 
and Centaur : and I was thinking which of them would be 
visible at the same moment in England. I came to the con- 
clusion, that what was right over your heads, your zenith, 
is always on our horizon, and similarly our zenith, (the star 
which is just over our heads,) will at the same moment be 
on your horizon in a direction a little East of South, pro- 
bably between S.S.E. and S.E. by S. ; also that at every 
moment either you or we might say. Half of what I now see 
of the sky they see also, (unless the sun is above the hori- 
zon). If you at any time want to know what we can see, 
think of a line stretching from about E.N.E. right over 
head to W.S.W. ; all the stars that are S.E. of this line are 
at the same moment visible to us. In short, if you had a 
M^all with an exposure to the S.E., or between that and 
South, then sitting at the foot of it looking forward and 
upward, you would see half of the whole sky : that half we see 
also. "We see, besides, another half below your horizon, but 
we do not see what is behind the wall. If you want to see 
these stars in the sayne position as we do, you miist lie on 
your back, with your feet to the wall, which must be so 
high as to seem right over your head. The top of the 
wall is our horizon; and by looking up through your eye- 
brows you will see what is over our heads ; what is on your 
right hand is on our right hand also, what is on your left is on 
our left : in short, you are just in the position in which we 
are when we stand looking about IST.lSr.E. There's the re- 
sult of my conversation with. Orion and Jupiter last night. 
* -i;- * vc- -X- 

As to your plan of my staying at home one Sunday 
every fortnight, I'll think about it ; but prejudices are 
against it. Even with my present attempts there are one 
or two places very much neglected. I am just arranging to 
give a Sunday service to a place between Yerulam and the 
Umgeni. This would entail my absence from home the 
whole of that Sunday. I propose to do this about once in 


two months. I have for the last three weeks had a Monday 
evening service at the Tongaat, and this will want a Sunday 
now and then to keep it alive, and for the more solemn ad- 
ministration of the Holy Communion. Fancy white people, 
who used to live in London, communicants, firmly attached 
to the Church of England, who have never received the Com- 
munion since they came out, five or six years ago. I know 
such a case. Again : a man had a fall from his horse, and 
died in three or four days: he also was a communicant, but 
had not received the Communion for a year and a half. I 
heard of his accident, and was on my way to his house, on 
my return from a summons to Durban, but he had been 
buried. These are strong cases; and I feel strongly that 
we shall do no good to the blacks by neglecting the whites. 
And till I have a curate, (which God grant soon !) I don't 
think I can j)ossibly give up any white service on Sunday. 
I am really well ; and though both Sunday and Monday are 
hard days, I was out of bed by six this morning, (Tuesday,) 
and am as hearty as possible. 

And now my own dear sister, (dearer though less written 
to than even in Cambridge days,) good bye. And may the 
God of all peace and grace give us every blessing, more than 
we deserve or desire, through Christ our Lord. 

Your ever loving brother, 

C. F. M. 

The next letter refers to a Church Conference, con- 
cerning which I shall have more to say presently. I 
introduce the letter in order to shew the spirit in which 
he engaged in the work, and his own humility con- 
cerning his fitness for it. His opinion of his own in- 
capacity for this kind of business was however founded 
in truth : he was not the man for a consultative body, 
was too easily led, and as regards a Church synod too 
little read in ecclesiastical history and ecclesiastical 



literature generally, to be capable of exercising a great 
amount of influence. 


Umhlali, Natal, March 17, 1858. 
Dear Goodwin, 

* * * * 46- 

We are to have a Cliiircli Conference here next month 
as a preliminary to a regular synod. It is to advise the 
Bishop whether to call a synod; how to constitute it, and 
whether to apply to the legislature for an act confirming it. 
Yesterday was the day for electing lay representatives : and 
I don't think any parochial disti'ict, (we have no actual 
parishes,) will turn out a better man than my people did. 
* * * For my own part, I have a very strong feeling of 
my incapacity for such business. My comfort is, that I did 
not come out here with any idea that I was peculiarly 
qualified for the work, but simply because there were few 
labourers here in comparison with home, that others would 
till ray place at home, and I should be taking up the place 
of none out here : and so, if one does bvit do one's best, He 
for whom we are working will excuse the performance. But 
it is a matter of considerable responsibility, to be one of the 
leading members of the first Diocesan Synod (for so it is 
virtually). God grant us wisdom. I wonder now some- 
times that I was bold enough to come out. I don't think 

I should now. Or if I did, not as Archdeacon. 


Your affectionate friend, 

C. F. M. 

The Church Conference took place at Pietermaritz- 
burg, on the twentieth of April, and following days. As 
I am writing a history, not of the Church in Natal, but 
of the life of Archdeacon Mackenzie, I shall not think 
it necessary to give a full account of the proceedings. 


It must suffice to say that on certain important points 
the Archdeacon found himself in a minority, and that 
upon ascertaining that the views, which himself and 
those who voted with him considered essential, were 
negatived by the majority, he retired with the Dean of 
Pietermaritzburg and some other clergymen from the 
Conference. The matter under discussion was the future 
constitution of a Church Synod, and the point upon 
which a strong difference of opinion was manifested was 
the status which should be gi'anted to native congrega- 
tions. Should such congregations be put on a footing of 
equality with regard to representation with the white 
congregations ? did the equality in Christ of members of 
His Church imply equal rights in all matters of church- 
membership ? There was also the additional question 
of the proper method of dealing with the soldiers ; some 
holding that a camp congregation should send a dele- 
gate to the synod, others holding the contrary opinion : 
but I apprehend that the real point in the discussion 
was the position of the black congregations, and that 
the high view of the privileges conferred upon all men, 
whether white or black, by vital union with the Re- 
deemer, which the Archdeacon held, made him regard 
his own presence at the Conference as useless, and in- 
deed impossible, when that view appeared to be nega- 
tived by the opinion of the majority. I should not be 
honest if I did not state my own opinion that Mackenzie 
was in error. Doubtless the question of dealing with a 
Church composed of two different races in different 
conditions of civilization must involve many difficulties ; 
and it seems an easy mode of disposing of those difficult 


ties to say that all are one in Christ ; but Christian 
equality does not involve equal fitness to deliberate and 
make rules for the government of the Church, any 
more than the equality of Englishmen in the eye of the 
law involves universal suffrage ; and it seems to me 
that in the infancy of such mixed Churches, the more 
advanced and more civilized portion must assume to 
some extent the guardianship of the weaker and less 
intelligent, looking forward to a time when such 
guardianship shall be no longer necessary, and can be 
safely abandoned. In fact, the question appears to me 
to be one of expediency and not one of j)rinciple, and I 
cannot but regret that my dear friend was induced to 
take a course, which, without leading to any important 
result, deprived the Conference of the advantage of his 

Yet even here, if he was in error, as I think he 
was, the error was a noble one. It was the love of the 
weaker race, the strong feeling of the dignity of the 
lowest of mankind when elevated by the knowledge of 
Christ, the fear of the native being trampled upon by 
the colonist, that made him protest in the most em- 
phatic manner that seemed possible to him, against 
that which he deemed to be unsound in principle. 

Whatever may be the true view concerning Mac- 
kenzie's conduct, there can be no doubt that this was a 
very trying time to him, and that he returned with 
great delight to his pastoral labours at the Umhlali. 
He felt himself out of his element in the conflicts of 
opinion stirred up in a deliberative assembly, and I 
have reason to believe, — the feeling is in fact expressed. 


in one of his letters, — that he was conscious on such 
occasions of the need of a more definite theological 
training than he had received, and of the evil of the 
practice of passing so rapidly as many Cambridge men 
do from mathematics to holy orders ; he was most in 
his element when he was ministering to the wants of 
others, and exhibiting the real depth and value of his 
Christian principles by going about like his Master, 
and doing good. 

The Conference was opened, as we have seen, on 
April 20 ; on April 22 the Archdeacon retired, and on 
April 23rd, Friday, he seems to have left Pietermaritz- 
burg. The following extract from a letter of Miss 
Mackenzie's will bring him home, and give a picture 
of liis life at the Umhlali at this period. 

He did not leave P. M. B. till one P. m. on Friday. He 
meant to Lave started early, but was obliged to call ou tlie 
Bishop first : then he remembered he ought to call on Dr 

and Mrs . While he was with them the cathedral bells 

rang, and he could not go before service, and so it was one 
o'clock, and the roads dreadfully slippery with the rain, be- 
fore he got fairly away. I knew his ways too well to expect 
he would do anything else, and tried to keep in patient trust 
that all was well with him, but I could not help thinking of 

poor Mr , who was thrown from his horse on his way 

to P. M. B. and very severely hurt ; but in spite of dark- 
ness, bad and slippery roads, a tired horse, and swollen 
rivers to cross, he was preserved in all dangers. He slept 
at the half-way house, breakfasted next morning at Pine 
Town, did some business in Durban, reached Yerulam at 
eleven p.m. and went to bed; but was up veiy early, and 
was here a httle after eight A. M. on Sunday morning. He 
let his horse, Spring, wander away by accident at P. M. B., 


and, trtisting to Lis usual good luck, did not take so mucli 
pains to recover him as ke would otherwise have done, and 
rode the ninety miles on his new horse, which is still called 
Bob. The Archdeacon had less than an hour to dress and 
breakfast before he was at the camp, for service at nine. 
He has a church-meeting at Mount Moreland and elsewhere 
to-morrow; so he does not return till the afternoon. I am 
thankful to say the hour for his Monday service at the 
Tongaat is changed from seven p.m. to four; so he will be at 
home in future in much better time. He is wonderfully 
strong. It is vain to ask him to do less. Did I tell you of 
my once writing to him from the Umlazi to beg he would 
release Mr R. from a service at the Bluff] His answer at 
first overjoyed me, quite agreeing that it was a total break- 
up of Mr R.'s Sunday; but I stamped my foot when I read 
on, and found that he meant to add it to his own duties. So 
the thinking what he coiild leave out of his duties here aftei* 
reading your letter, made him add a quarterly service at the 
Umhlanga, when he is away from the Umhlali all day, and 
the Saturday also. I was quite thankful to him yesterday 
for giving us less music than usual ; it is a great fatigue 
to his voice. It is pouring and blowing hurricanes. We 
have still no windows in. Part of a partition wall fell down 
to-day from the badness of the bricks it was built with, 
and I don't know when our house will be finished. 

In the next letter, one of the last written by him to 
his eldest sister, who died in the latter part of the year, 
he appears again to allude to the approaching Con- 


Umhlali, April 3, 1858. 


"We are having divisions and searchings of heart here 
in church-matters. You know how unfitted I am for such 


tilings. Pray for me, that I may be guided right, and 
may not injure my own soul, that I may be honest and 
true, yet loving and gentle. There are such men : the 
Bishop of Cape Town is one, I believe. My comfort, when 
I feel that I am in water too deep for me, is that I did 
not come out because I thought myself peculiarly fitted 
for the work here, but simply because so few would come. 
And I think we may feel the comfort that a party would, 
chosen by lot from a regiment, that they were of God's 
selecting, that a man's skill and pride had not chosen them, 
that they went forth like Gideon's three hundred in the 
name of the Loi'd. 

About this time Ai-chdeacon Mackenzie was ap- 
pointed chaplain to the soldiers, who were encamped 
in the neighbourhood. He had indeed been virtually 
chaplain for some time; but he was now regularly 
appointed with a salary, which though not large was 
important as enabling him to obtain assistance in his 
widely extended parish. For some time he had felt the 
need of a fellowlabourer. He was very anxious that a 
young Cambridge friend, to whom he was much attached, 
should come out and work with him, and he sent a very 
pressing invitation; on due consideration the invita- 
tion was declined, and as I beheve on good and soKd 
grounds. I here give the letter which Mackenzie wrote 
on the occasion, and I would especially call the reader s 
attention to the temper with which the disappointment 
was received, and the manner in which he endeavours to 
direct his friend's mind to an important field of work 
nearer home. 


My Dear 


Umhlali, June 3, li 

Your letter gave me great pleasure, coming from 
your affectionate heart, and telling me so truly what you 
thought about coming here, and not coming here. I am 
quite satisfied that you have done what is right in following 
your own judgment in the matter, and not coming out 
simply because I wished or advised you to do so : and I 
have no reason (certainly I have no right, if I had reason) 
to blame you for deciding as you have. The way I look 
at it is this. There is a great deal to be done at home, 
(and perhaps no work is so important, though few so diffi- 
cult, as that of a clergyman among and over the Undei"- 
graduates) ; there is a great deal to be done abroad, and 
fewer in proportion to do it. I take this last for granted, 
without any accurate calculation, and I may be wrong ; but 
I think so. Well : every one must decide for himself where 
he can best work /or tlie Master's cause, after clearly making 
up his mind that that must come first, before private incli- 
nation, and even before other ties, (except so far as they 
involve duties, and so are part of the Master's cause). If 
you think that you honestly did and do determine to do 
what you impartially and conscientiously think right, then 
of course you may feel quite at ease. I should not doubt 
this, but for one or two expressions in your letter; on the 
whole I believe you did so determine, and therefore I am 

But if you in your own heart are not sure that you 
would give up all for Him, and think you did not decide 
this particular question (of coming out) on that principle, 
I wovxld say, take this instance as a test sent by God to 
shew yourself to you ; try to purify your intentions by 
thinking more of His Infinite Love, and our relation to 
Him as His children ; and pray that you may come nearer 


to tlie blessed state of the saints above, who have no will 
opposed to His. And, my dear fellow, when you do so 
jiray, pray for me too. It is very sad, how changeable 
we are ; how easily we forget the high office to which we 
have been called, and the purity and singleness of heart 
required to enable us in any degree to fulfil our mission. 

* -::- -X- * -X- 

I am very anxious about the college-servants. Just 

before I left, I had some talk with about them ; I 

mean their being cared for, as persons capable of religion, 

by us their masters, being clergymen. told me of the 

appointment at Oxford, (in Magdalene, I think), of one of 
the fellows to the office of chaplain to the college-servants. 

I dare say your arrangements at may be better than 

ours ; but ask when you see him, whether anything 

has been done in Caius about bringing good influences to 
bear upon the servants. I was reminded of it the other 
day when defending the practice of daily service ; I quoted 
the excellence of the habit I, with so many others, had in 
college of going regularly in the morning : my opponent 
said, "Yes, and the bed-makers, what did they do?" I 
admitted that I had enjoyed the privilege myself, without 
their joining in it. I forgot by the way to say, that I 
did try hard to get my gyp to come to my rooms at 6 a.m. 
for prayers, promising not to keep him above five minutes : 
but he always said, they were so bustled, they could not 
come. So you see, I tried something ; but without success. 
I tliink if in each college those who are anxious to do good 
would talk the matter over, they might do something. 
When men leave college they feel a responsibility to their 
servants ; and why should not the same feeling exist in a 
house established for religious as well as intellectual edu- 
cation % 

* X- -X- * * 

I think if I were back in College again, I should try to 
impi'ess upon those of the Undergraduates who now neglect 


it, the need of studying the Bible, and other first books of 
divinity, if they are thinking of being ordained. Part of 
Sunday might well be given to this. 

I have mentioned in every letter I am writing this mail, 
that I have got a curate. I am as pleased as a father at the 
birth of his first child. Nay, but seriously, I am very glad. 
I shall now give a Sunday afternoon once a mouth to a 
Kafir service, and we shall bring two more congregations of 
white people, one at the little TJmhlanga, the other at the 
Tongaat, into regular Sunday services. I shall not myself 
pass many Sundays in the year without celebrating the Holy 
Communion : I have been administering it more than once 
a fortnight for several months. I believe this to be itself a 
privilege. At the Conference at P. M. B. in April, we had 
the Holy Commi^nion every morning, and I don't think I 
could have got through the trials and difiiculties of the week 
without it. By the way, that was another thing I wanted 

to know from you and , whether you have Communion 

oftener than once a term. Why not on the first Sunday of 
every month 1 or, if you like to regulate it more academi- 
cally, say three times in the term? Now don't say, (you 

and ), " What has he to do with us, giving us orders in 

this way ? has he not enough to do in his own Archdea- 
conry'?" No — I know you will not. 

And now, my dear fellow, good bye. Whether we shall 
meet on earth is in God's hands, and will be as He wills: 
but we may trust to a meeting above in His time ; how soon 
we know not; only let us ever stand with our lamps burn- 
ing in our hands. God bless you ! 

Your affectionate friend, 

c. r. M. 

The new curate alluded to in the foregoing letter 
was a great satisfaction to the Archdeacon's mind, not 
(as will be easily believed) because he would be able 


to relax his own efforts, but because the aid of a 
brother clergyman opened new fields of activity. The 
stipend was partly supplied by the Bishop, partly by 
local resources, and it gave the Archdeacon great delight 
to find that his people responded heartily to the appeal 
which he made to them, and that there would be no 
difficulty in supplying the guaranteed amount of salary. 
He instituted a monthly collection in his five churches, 
namely, Umhlali, Tongaat, Verulam, Mount Moreland, 
and the little Umhlanga, and found it answer so well 
that he determined to adopt the same system of col- 
lection for the support of education in his district. I 
here introduce a scrap of a letter, in which he expresses 
his satisfaction with the new arrangement. 


[To a Sister) 

Umhlalt, June 30, 1858. 

* -» * -X- * 

The new curate works well. Every one is 2)leased with 
bim, and whereas I told the Bishop I thought we could 
raise .£40 a-year in the district towards his support, this 
month has just about produced its share. We shall each have 
service three times every Sunday on an average, and there 
will not be many Sundays in the year on which I shall not 
celebrate the Holy Communion. I do feel very grateful for 
being allowed thus to feed His sheep in the wilderness ; and 
I trust that the outward forms of His service may be the 
means of grace to the souls of His people, and that His 
glory may be shewn forth. 

* * % % * 

There is a great dearth of letters in the latter half 


of this year, 1858. The reader, however, will be able 
to fancy to himself the Archdeacon's regular course 
of laborious duty, and his happy home now rendered 
almost comfortable ; in fact, I find Miss Mackenzie 
writing towards Michaelmas in this fashion : " We were 
burnt out of house and home about a year ago ; but 
there are advantages in every trial ; and whereas we 
were living in a very uncomfortable ill-built house, 
situated in a bare desolate-looking field, with no pretty 
view from it, now we have built a mansion for our- 
selves, with eight small rooms in it ; and we have such 
a glorious view of the sea, separated from us by beauti- 
fully wooded hills and valleys ; and our ground being 
our own, for we have bought between twenty and thirty 
acres, it is both pleasure and profit to plant fruit-trees, 
pine-apples, bananas, &c. ; and the rapidity with which 
everything grows is astonishing." 

I shall be pardoned if I take advantage of this 
absence of anything of especial interest connected with 
the Archdeacon personally, to introduce two or three 
notices of collateral matters, which will nevertheless 
tend to illustrate the story of his life in Natal. 

In page 177 there is a specimen of Kafir politeness; 
here is a specimen of Kafir passion. ''I was in the 
sitting room," writes Miss Mackenzie, "when I heard 
screams, and then saw Jessie (the maid) running. I 
joined her, and saw Uskendi crouching under a tree 
where he had fallen, while Bafuti was close by with 
a long stick in his hand, and Umzanga was trying to 
hold him in. As soon as I joined them, Uskendi made 
his escape, and I took hold of Bafuti's arm, but he 


shook me off, and said in English, almost foaming with 
passion, ' You like that boy bite me ? you like that 
boy beat me ?' I said, No, it was very bad, but he 
must not beat him when in a passion. He roared out 
in Kafir, 'Leave me, don't touch me.' So I said very 
quietly, ' Bafuti, is that the way in which you speak to 
the Inkosazan?' Then I told him Uskendi should 
certainly be punished, but that it was not good for 
himself to beat him while he was so angry, and I re- 
minded him of UmFundisi's teaching. * * * Umzanra 
now came and tried to take the stick by force from him, 
but this was beginning to make him furious again ; 
so we told him to desist, and I said that I would not 
take it from him, that I knew he would not use it now, 
and that, if he promised, we would trust him en- 
tirely. * * * Poor Bafuti ! his whole body shook, 
and I could see his heart beating, while the tears rolled 
down from his eyes; but with an effort he threw away 
the stick of his own accord, and walked away; but he 
was very angry, and he seated himself at the corner 
of the house, as if to watch for his prey. * * * He 
was very grave all the afternoon, but when I asked 
him if he would like me to speak to him, he said, ' I 
wish it.' Then I reminded him of the evil spirit taking 
possession of a man, and about Cain and Abel. At 
night at prayers, when the Archdeacon asked them all 
what were the sins we were tempted to commit, Bafuti 
answered, ' Being very angiy ;' and he seemed quite 
humbled at the remembrance of his passion." 

I hope the reader will see in the story which I 
have just given, evidence not only of the strength of 


Kafir passion, but of the influence of Christian teach- 
ing and example. I hope he will also feel that such 
conduct as has be^n described, if it betrays something 
of the savage, does at the same time indicate a nature 
capable of being trained to higher things ; the fact is, 
that few races appear more hopeful than the Kafirs 
of South Africa; the great obstacle to their improve- 
ment is (as I have already had occasion to remark) 
polygamy, and the custom associated with it, accord- 
ing to which a man has the absolute power over his 
daughters, and can sell them for their price in cows 
under any circumstances ; hence I find the Mackenzie 
missionaries occasionally complaining that any young 
girl taken by them, educated, even baptized, is liable 
to be sold for a few cows, as third or fourth wife to 
some heathen Jiusband. The English government has 
thought fit not to interfere with the native law in this 
respect ; and possibly it may have been politic to take 
this course ; but certainly to the missionary, and to 
every wellwisher to the native race, the consequences 
are very deplorable. 

This bargain concerning women even affects their 
children sometimes, as will be seen from the following : 
" Our domestic troubles," says Miss Alice Mackenzie in 
one of her letters, " are curiously different from those 
at home. The boy Umabokwe was visited the other 
day by his father, who was in a great excitement, and 
spoke to us so fast and with such a torrent of words, 
that we could not follow him. Umabokwe was sum- 
moned to tell us what it was all about; and he ex- 
plained, (in Kafir, only he spoke gently, so that we 


could understand him). 'A man is coming to take me 
away.' It seemed that his mother, when she married 
his father, had not been paid for: at least not the 
whole price of cows. She is dead since, but the man 
who owned her before her marriage now claims her son. 
The Archdeacon is gone to the magistrate about it." 

Then there is superstition standing as an obstacle to 
the faith and to the improvement of the people, and the 
stories told of the "witch-doctors" are very strange. 
Mr Shepstone, whose name is well-known to all ac- 
quainted with Natal, always spoke of the knowledge of 
these men as something which he could not explain ; 
and that which was a mystery to him may well be a 
source of tremendous influence upon the minds of the 
natives. The magistrate at the Umhlali spoke of the 
witch-doctors in the same way. He told the Mackenzies 
the following story. He was leaving home, and only 
two boys were left in his house. He shewed one of 
them, whose name was Usfile, a revolver pistol which 
was in its case, and desired him not to touch it. When 
he came home it was broken. Both the boys denied 
any knowledge of the accident, and Usfile said he did 
not like to be suspected, and wished a witch-doctor to 
be consulted. There was one, come quite lately from 
the Zulu country, who knew nothing of European ways, 
or houses. This man being applied to first chewed some 
medicine, and then went raging about to get himself into 
the proper state of phrensy ; then he threw himself on 
the ground, saying there was a snake inside him, and 
groaned horribly. By a kind of "magical music" he 
discovered what was wanted from him : they never told 



him what they wanted to consult him about. He said, 
" You do not v/ant to know about cows." The people 
assented. Then he said, "No: it is not cows: it is 
something in the house." The people assented again, 
more loudly than before. This went on for three hours, 
the witch-doctor always coming nearer to the truth, till 
he ended by describing the case with the pistol in it, the 
table under which it lay, how the boy had tried to un- 
screw it, and that there was another boy with him, and 
then he pointed to Usfile as the culprit, who confessed. 

Stories, similar to the preceding, and of great in- 
terest in themselves, might easily be multiplied ; but I 
must leave them, in order to return to that which more 
definitely concerns the life of Archdeacon Mackenzie. 

Throughout the year 1858 I find constant sorrow- 
ings on the part of Miss Mackenzie concerning her 
brother's severe work, long rides, sometimes in a hot 
sun, sometimes in drenching rain. She has chronicled 
also some minor inconveniences: as when upon one oc- 
casion his horse was troubled with a sore back, and 
being unable to ride upon it with a saddle the Arch- 
deacon called at the house of a parishioner to ask if the 
good woman of the house could in any way assist him: 
she very benevolently lent him her ironing flannel to 
serve as a temporary saddle, the Archdeacon promising 
to return it before the next ironing-day. 

Under date December 21, of this year, I find a 
notice which I think the reader will pardon me for 
introducing as it stands. It illustrates at once the 
effect of Mackenzie's character upon those about him, 
and the roughness of the Ufe which he was accus- 


tomed to lead. "I do feel," says Miss Mackenzie, 
" the responsibility so great of being allowed to live 
with Charles. It is not only that his temper is so un- 
varyingly even, amidst provocations both great and 
small: it seems as if he could not fail there: but he 
grows in holiness, and in devotedness, and such utter 
self-forgetfulness ! It is a great comfort to me that he 
takes care of his health without neglecting what he 
thinks his duty. I never can be reconciled to his long 
Sunday rides in the hot wet season; but he thinks 
it is right, and that he is planting the Church. On 
Sunday, after service, it was desperately hot, quite 
enervating, even to me, and he started off on a twenty- 
five miles ride. He had the misfortune to lose his flask 
of wine by the way ; so he had only the hot water of the 
river to drink. In the evening the heaviest of our Natal 
rains came on, and next morning the country was in a 
flood. He w^as much wished to stay, but he said he 
would try to return. The river Ninoti was very high ; 
and it has a slippery stony bed. A Kafir was told to go 
in and see what state it was in, but he could not keep 
his footing. A white man told him that a little higher 
up he might swim through himself, but not his horse; 

so he left him in the charge of Mr , as well as his 

waterproofs, which would only encumber him in the 
water. He had to swim another river which is only a 
brook in ordinary times. The Umvoti was not higher 
than his knee, but it was very wide, and he said he 
compassionated horses more than he had ever known 
was necessary; it was so fatiguing to walk through the 
water. He arrived dripping at Dr A — 's, for it had 



been raining all day. He found them at dinner, and 
they gave him dry clothes and lent him a horse ; but he 
arrived here about half-past nine pretty wet, as the 
Umhlali was high : so he did not stay to give us any 
news, but went straight to bed, and he is quite well this 

The year 1859 opened with a very heavy trouble, 
the loss of his eldest sister, who has been already de- 
scribed in this Memoir as intimately connected with 
Mackenzie's early education, and the' formation of his 
character. The next three letters, which are nearly all 
that have come to my hands of this year's correspond- 
ence, refer to this event. The first is to the sister her- 
self, the second to another sister, his chief correspondent 
in England, and the third to his brother-in-law. They 
are dated from Seaforth, the name given to the new 
house at the Umhlali. 



Seafoeth, Januanj, 1859. 

I have just finished copying for A , and for 

very shame must write you a few lines myself. My dear 

one, it is indeed, as A says, the first real home anxiety 

we have had, except . Dear one, I trust you trustfully 

in His hands, who watches over Israel, and slumbers not 

nor sleeps. 

* * * * * 

The more I try to obey the rules of the Church, the 
more of beauty and truth and reality I see in them. I 
never used the Visitation service in England, and I do not 
use it here quite as it is directed, but I have looked more 
to its prayers than before; and they are very beautiful. 


Then the having the Communion at a marriage is so good, 
when both are real Christians, — a solemn binding of them 
together, and with all true members of the Lord, present 
and absent. I feel a far more geaeral meaning in the Com- 
munion than I used to do, not only the strengthening and 
refreshing of our souls, but the union with the Church, His 
body, the blessed company of all faithful people, — however 
men may differ as to who are to be included in that phrase. 
He knows His own, and keepeth them every instant. 

Dear , yovi may be now among the members of the 

Church in Heaven, who have washed their robes and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb. If so, we shall never 
meet again on earth. But what a meeting in heaven ! Any 
two of us to meet so would be more than we can conceive, — 
we made perfect, and never more to part : and then to think 
of the many ! Dear mother, with so many of us, I trust, 
and with her own brothers and sisters ; and each to see in 
the others the reflexion of their own joy, and to feel the joy 
of others to be their own ! 

God grant us grace to arrive at that blessed ending, for 
Christ's sake. Amen, 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. P. M. 


Seafoeth, January 29, 1859. 
Dear , 

* * * * * 

We are looking anxiously for the mail to hear of our 

dear . Well, wherever she is, her Father is with her. 

Those who do not know Him think that a cold thing to say, 
and imagine that faith makes people indifferent to the suf- 
ferings and misfortiines of others. God knows it is not so 
but that rather we are bound together the closer by His 
great Fatherly overshadowing wings. 

Feb. 2. Dear , the news came yesterday. I heard 

it on my road home, through Miss 's kindness, she hav- 


ing heard it here. Well, dearest one, when I heard it, I 
said at once, "I'm very glad." I could not help thinking first, 
she is over the fever : she is through the grave and gate of 

death. Then I thought of poor . I do feel for him. 

They say none can know a widower's or a widow's grief : 
perhaps not : but one can tell what her loss to him would 
be. I remember how her telling me she was to be married 
shot through me such a pang as I have seldom felt, — never, 
I think, — far worse than this present one : for now is she 
not there, whither we are all hastening? God grant we may 
all arrive safe in His time. 



Seafobth, Umhlali, Feb. 1, 1859. 

It was very kind of you to write to us yourself, at 
a time when your heart was so full. God has, I trust, sup- 
ported you with His everlasting arm, and that you can now 
look forward past the bounds of time and death to the king- 
dom where there shall be no partings. May He of His 
infinite mercy bring us thither, where we shall be safe for 

We have indeed all of us owed much to God through 
her. And it must be grateful to you, though adding to the 
sense of your loss, to feel how much she was looked up to 
and respected and loved by all. I at least, for one, know of 
no one who did not so. And surely we oiight not to think 
it strange if the brightest gems are sometimes removed from 
the workshop to the immediate presence of the Great King. 
What a comfort it is to feel sui-e that He is able of His in- 
finite wisdom to think for all and to provide for all, to 
whom the influence of a sinjrle event extends. No doubt 
each one of your children had just as much of her direct 
influence as was on the whole best. There comes a time 
when the sapling that has been supported, trained, and 


perhaps shielded from the storm, should stand alone and 
gain strength by being buffeted by the winds, learning to 
cling more firmly to the solid ground, from which ultimately 
all support must come. Then too, she being dead, yet 
speaketh; they will often remember her words, which will 
sound more solemnly than ever. 

I believe there has been a strong influence for good on 
me from my father's character, described to me by varioiis 
people, by none, I think, more vividly or effectively, than 
by you my dear brother, — thank you for doing so. And 
will not the example, which they have had before their eyes, 
live in their memories, and draw them after her ? 

But, in the mean time, it is sad — most sad — to us, who 
are left behind. Though we are so far from home, we live 
always in the prospect of perhaps being allowed, were it but 
for a time, to see you all again. And now one bright and 
beautiful face will be wanting ; one Christian spirit that 
would have welcomed us back, and bid us God speed out 
again, has fled. But O how blessed the teaching of the 
Spirit, to say, " His will be done : He doeth all things well." 
There was a needs be ! She is part of our treasiu'e laid up 
in heaven, making it the more natural and easy for our 
hearts to be where our treasure is. 

I have been led lately to think, how His excellence and 
loveliness and beauty are shewn forth to us — weakly indeed, 
but so only could it be to us — by the excellences of His 
creatures. And if a mortal being, a creature, confessedly 
with imperfection, can so engross our affections, what will 
be the bliss of the open vision of the King in His beauty ! 

My dear , I never, I think, spoke or wrote in this 

way to you before. But I feel her presence, above us all, 
such a bond of union, that I have not been afraid to speak in 
this way to you who are so much older, and so much more 
fit to tell me these things than I you. 

God bless you all. 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 


I have only one more letter written from the Um- 
hlali, which I insert here, not so much on account of 
any special interest connected with it, as because it is 
the last. 


{To a Sister.) 

Seafoeth, March 6, 1859. 


You called your letter (of December and January), 
just received, a short one. It was shortish for you, but not 
for me : I mean, if I had written such a one, I should not 
have called it so very short. 

I am so very glad at all you say about the Church Ser- 
vice. It is a bond of great power to knit our hearts all 
together, by knitting them to Him. I remember in my 
first term at Cambridge, when I first had the opportunity of 
attending daily service, not making full use of it : either 
going as seldom as I could, or not attending much while 

there, — I forget exactly. I remember talking to dear 

about it, and her advising me to try and get good; and I 
went on liking it more and more from that time. In my 
third year I was ofiered the chapel-clerkship, which required 
my attendance twice a day, and that made me like it more, 
for I got into the way when that year was over of attending 
always when I could. And I believe it was the General 
Thanksgiving, in Caius College chapel, which influenced me 
for good more than any other earthly means. I like to re- 
member this, because it is another case (of the many) in 
which I may trace mercies received from Him through her 
who is gone to His presence. 


To-morrow is the first day of Lent. I feel somehow not 
ready for it; but, in fact, that tells me I am the more ready 
for it as a time of self-examination, humiliation, and prayer. 


I have come to think of it out here more as a time for in- 
ward private work than I used, and not only as the esta- 
blished season for additional services in Church. God grant 
that it may be blessed to me and to us all, though it will be 

passed before you get this. 

* * * * * 

In the February of this year, Mackenzie was ill for 
the first and last time, so far as I know, during his 
residence in. Natal. On the first of February he was 
out on one of his long expeditions, and the day was 
extremely hot; he drank some cold water, which quite 
deranged him, and when he reached a friend's house, 
he found himself really ill. Cold cloths upon his head 
and rest however soon restored him, and the next day 
he was able to come home. At first it was feared that 
he had received a sun-stroke ; this happily proved to 
be a mistake ; but for some time after he was more or 
less of an invalid, and forbidden by his medical adviser 
to do all that he had been in the habit of doing before. 
In the beginning of March he was well again, and 
resumed his long Sunday journeys. 

In March, after much negotiation concerning ex- 
change of duty, an arrangement was made, which en- 
abled the Mackenzie party to visit Maritzburg. Change 
was becoming necessary, and on March 28, they started 
in an ox-waggon upon their journey; the Dean of 
Maritzburg relieving the Archdeacon from his work at 
the Umhlali. In the beginning of April they were 
comfortably settled at Maritzburg, where the Archdeacon, 
in addition to other clerical work, undertook the ca- 
thedral school. The following is the only letter which 
has come to my hands at this period. 



{To a Sister.) 

P. M. B, April 9, 1859. 
Dear , 


I am looking forward rather to the next few weeks. My 
sphere of duty is more confined. I could walk in half an 
hour from this house to any part of my parish, and that is a 
new idea to me. At the same time I find the school some- 
what fatiguing and harassing: there are seven classes, all 
to be kept at work at once. As to parish- work, I shall 
have to set myself to it more steadily next week than I 
have done hitherto. 

The cathedral daily service is a great help, and we have 
Communion every Sunday. Certainly, while we live in the 
flesh, outward things are a great help to the spirit. 


During this stay at Maritzburg, it was arranged 
that the Archdeacon and his elder sister should visit 
England. I think I cannot introduce this new turn in 
their history more appropriately than in Miss Mackenzie's 
own words. On May 9 she writes : " There is a plan 
for Charles and me to sail for England by the next 
steamer. My heart is full at the very thought of it. 
* * * I cannot tell you how I feel. I am in a 
flurry of joy." 

The cause of this arrangement I will endeavour to 
explain. For some time there had been a scheme for 
sending a missionary Bishop with some clergy into the 
Zulu country. Who was to be the missionary Bishop ? 
Mackenzie's name was very naturally suggested, and 


I believe it was all but determined that he should be 
the leader. It was with reference to his consecration 
as a missionary Bishop to the Zulu country, that his 
trip to England was first planned. The Bishop of Natal, 
however, thought that it would be well that he him- 
self should undertake this new missionary work, and, 
in order to undertake it, he was prepared to resign his 
own See and go to the wilder and more difficult field. 
Eventually it was proposed that both the Bishop and 
the Archdeacon should go as far as the Cape, and 
there take counsel as to what was best to be done. 
At the last moment, the Bishop's engagements would 
not allow him to leave Natal, and consequently it 
seemed almost useless that either himself or the Arch- 
deacon should go, it not being clear that Mackenzie 
had any definite business to transact when he arrived 
in England. However, the arrangements had been 
made ; and therefore, somewhat against his own judg- 
ment, Mackenzie was persuaded to come home. Ac- 
cordingly, with his elder sister, he left Natal in June, 
and arrived in England at the end of July, 1859. The 
reader will see hereafter why I lay stress upon the 
circumstances under which Mackenzie returned to this 


On the 12th of December, 1856, Dr Livingstone arrived 
in England to tell his countrymen of his discoveries 
in Africa, and to stir up a feeling of interest on be- 
half of the natives of that country. In the course of 
1857 he published his volume of Missioiiary Travels 
in South Africa, which excited much attention, and 
may undoubtedly be regarded as amongst the most 
remarkable records of personal enterprise. Looking 
upon Dr Livingstone's adventures, with reference to the 
addition which they have made to our geographical 
knowledge, and to science in general, or with reference 
to the prospect which they have opened of increased 
commerce with Africa, it is impossible not to assign 
them a very high value : but it is clear that Dr Living- 
stone himself regarded his own labours in a higher 
than either a scientific or a commercial light : he called 
his travels in South Africa emphatically Missionary 
travels, and he considered all other views of his work 
as subordinate to that of improving the spiritual con- 
dition of those illused and depressed races amongst 
whom he had spent a considerable portion of his life. 


Accordingly, he was not content with publishing his 
book of travels, or with the ordinary modes of making 
known to his countrymen his views concerning Eng- 
land's duty to Africa. He determined to make an 
attempt to stir the hearts of the two ancient Univer- 
sities. The attempt was very characteristic: it was 
frank, open, and free from all narrow jealousies. Living- 
stone, himself a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and 
employed as a missionary by the London Missionary 
Society, having persuaded himself that there was an 
immense amount of power and zeal in the Church of 
England, which might be called forth for the benefit 
of Africa, asked leave to tell his tale in each of the 
great centres of Church of England education. 

It will be sufficient in this place to speak of Cam- 
bridge. On December 4, 1857, Dr Livingstone appeared 
in the Senate-house, for the purpose of giving a lecture 
on his African travels. The Bishop of Worcester, Dr 
Philpott, then Master of S. Catharine's College, and 
Vice-Chancellor, was in the chair, and introduced the 
missionary traveller : his reception was enthusiastic : 
the undergraduates cheered as only undergraduates can 
cheer; and after a lecture of great interest \ adapted 
with great tact to the audience. Professor Sedgwick, at 
the Vice-Chancellor's request, in a warmhearted speech, 
expressed the satisfaction which every one present felt. 
The conclusion of the lecture was very emphatic, and 

1 The Lecttire has been published, together with one delivered on 
the same day at the Town -hall, with the title, " Dr Livingstone's Cam- 
bridge Lectures," by the Kev. William Monk. Deighton, Bell, and Co. 


could hardly be forgotten by any who heard it : "I go 
back," said Dr Livingstone, " to Africa, to try to make 
an open path for commerce and Christianity. Do you 
carry out the work which I have begun. I leave IT 
WITH YOU." As he uttered these words, he looked 
up to the galleries, crowded with undergraduates, and 
seemed to imply that this moral of his tale was intended 
especially for them. 

In 1858 the Bishop of Cape Town visited England. 
He came to Cambridge, and there explained the plans 
which he had formed for the further spread of the Gos- 
pel in Africa. He proposed to send missions, consisting 
of clergy, with a Bishop at the head, into some of those 
countries which bordered upon the South African Dio- 
ceses, and so to make the country already occupied by 
Christian Bishops a basis for further operations in the 
adjoining heathen lands. It may, I think, be fairly 
argued that this scheme, as propounded by the Bishop 
of Cape Town, is the true method of spreading the 
kingdom of Christ ; and if so, it might also be argued, 
that it is unwise to desert an established and safe base- 
line, and to commence other detached missions in dis- 
tant parts. But the Bishop of Cape Town found that 
a scheme for an African Mission, different from his own, 
and more immediately connected with the scene of 
Livingstone's travels and discoveries, had already been 
talked over in Cambridge, and had assumed something 
like a definite form. Livingstone's last words had taken 
effect, and it was thought that an effort to plant a 
mission in Central Africa, which should attempt at once 
to introduce civilization and Christianity, and check 


the abomination of slave-trade by facilitating lawful 
commerce, would commend itself to the feelings of the 
University, and would be taken up with enthusiasm. 
The Bishop of Cape Town accordingly forbore to press 
his own schemes upon Cambridge, and announced with 
frankness, that in the event of the Central African 
scheme being carried out, he would give to it all his 
own influence and support. 

I think I cannot chronicle the early history of the 
mission, with which Mackenzie's name was afterwards 
so closely associated, in any better way than by intro- 
ducing here the Report which was presented to the great 
meeting held in the Senate-house, on November 1, 1859, 
of which I shall have something more to say presently. 
It will be observed that the Mission was planned with- 
out any reference to Mackenzie, that for some time 
after the scheme had been set on foot, and after the 
question had been asked, Who shall head the Mission ? 
his name had not been mentioned, and that even in 
the Report itself no allusion is made to him as the 
probable leader in the work. 


In presenting a Report of their proceedings np to the 
present time, the Cambridge Committee of the Oxford and 
Cambridge Mission to Central Africa wish first to recall 
the special circumstances which have led members of this 
and the sister University to undertake the work of establish- 
ing a mission to those regions — a work well befitting the 
two great centres of Christian education in this country. 

The Mission owes its origin, imder God, to the im- 
pression produced by the visit of Dr Livingstone to this 


University, revived and strengthened by the subsequent 
visit of the Bishop of Cape Town. 

The feelings awakened by these visits resulted in the 
formation of a Committee, pledged to take steps towards 
establishing a Mission to Central Africa. 

The first step taken by this Committee was to invite the 
co-operation of the University of Oxford. This was promptly 
and heartily accorded. 

A highly influential Committee was immediately formed 
in that University, and large subscriptions were promised. 
A public meeting was also held in the Sheldonian Theatre 
on May 17th, at which the Bishop of Oxford presided, and 
which was attended by a deputation from the Cambridge 

These proceedings were followed by a meeting held on 
May 26th, at No. 79, Pall-mall, at which a London Com- 
mittee was formed, consisting of members of both Univer- 
sities. Thenceforth all measures taken for effecting the 
objects in view have resulted from the correspondence and 
concurrence of the three committees. 

In adopting the name of " The Oxford and Cambridge 
Mission to Ceutral Africa," the committees are far from 
intending to imply that they do not seek the co-operation 
of those who are not members of either University — on the 
contrary, they earnestly trust that their design will call 
forth active sympathy and aid from all classes throughout 
the coimtry, and that the clergy generally will give their 
cordial assistance to the secretaries in making arrangements 
for sermons and meetings in behalf of the Mission. 

They also wish it to be distinctly understood that they 
disclaim any intention of founding a new Missionary Society, 
or of interfering with the operations of those already ex- 
isting. It is their hope that in a short time they will be 
able to hand over to the Society for the Propagation of 
the Gospel in Foreign Parts the management of the Mis- 
sion : but it is necessary that its establishment and main- 


tenance, for the first few years, should be provided for by 
means of a special organisation. 

The Committees hope to be able at an early period to 
send out not fewer than six Missionaries under the direc- 
tion, if possible, of a Bishop. 

With reference to the field of labour in which they shall 
be employed, the Committees have agreed that it shall be 
selected so as not to interfere with existing Missionary 
operations. The Bishop of Capetown has engaged to open 
communications on this subject with Dr Livingstone, "who 
on his part has kindly promised to aid the undertaking. 

From a comparison of statements furnished by the So- 
ciety for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, 
the Church Missionary Society, and the London Missionary 
Society, of the expense of sending out Missionaries to South 
Africa, and of maintaining them there, it lias been estimated 
that a sum of not less than £1,000 will be requisite for 
the outfit of a Bishop and six other Missionaries, and that 
the annual expense of maintaining the Mission cannot be 
less than £2000. The amount actually promised up to the 
present time in donations is £1,610. 7s. 4f/., and in annual 
subscriptions for a term of years £176. 3s. Qtd. 

It will thus be seen that great efibrts are necessary to 
raise the requisite funds. 

It will be understood that the great object of the Mis- 
sion is to make known the Gospel of Christ; but as the 
Committees are well aware that, iu Dr Livingstone's own 
words, "civilisation and Christianity must go on together," 
they think it advisable to state that it will be their aim to 
encourage the advancement of science and the useful arts, 
and to direct especial attention to all questions connected 
with the slave-trade as carried on in the interior of Africa. 

In conclusion, the Committees beg earnestly to commend 
this great woi'k ot evangelizing the heathen in Central 
Africa to the earnest sympathy of all. They venture once 
more to repea^t the appeal of Dr Livingstone, that now 



tlie way is open — but that it may be shut again — and they 
pray that it may please God to bless and prosper their un- 
dertaking, and to raise up men to go out as labourers into 
the fields which " are white already to harvest." 

Having now sufficiently for the purposes of this 
Memoir explained the origin of the Mission to Central 
Africa, we will return to Mackenzie, whom we left on 
the point of leaving Natal for a visit to England, having, 
as it seemed, no very definite purpose. Here is a letter, 
written between Natal and Cape Town, to his sister, 
whom he had left behind in Natal. 



Waldensian, June 17, 1859, 

We have got on very well so far. This is Friday, 
and we are lying at anchor during a high head-wind, which 
we hope will moderate soon. We got over the bar last 
Saturday about 2 p.m., just ploughing the top of it for about 
our own length, and thanked our captain for his pluck in 
trying it. It was a little unpleasant, almost all a little 
sick. On Sunday we had service on deck, I being afraid 
of tying myself up in the cabin for so long a time. We 
have had service every day since, except Tuesday. On 
that day we came to an anchor in Algoa Bay early. We 
went ashore just in time for service, (Whitsun-Tuesday). 
* * * Saw the Grey Institute, also S. Paul's Church, 
a pretty, nice building. We dined, and returned to the 
vessel at three. * * * "We were in hope of being at 
Capetown during this night, and landing to-morrow morn- 
ing : but about midnight the wind got up ahead, and we 
have been making so little way that we have stopped in 
a bay just east of Cape Agulhas. So here we are. 

Things are going well. I have been so glad in having 


service, and I have had opportunity of being kind to some 
who had need of help. I have not had so much reading 
as I should have liked : it will probably be the same for 
the first week on board the English steamer : after that 
I shall be more settled. We are still in good hopes of 
catching the Athens : her day is Monday : but she is more 
likely to sail on Tuesday or Wednesday. 

-X- -A % % * 

June 20. This is our last evening on land. We got 
here, Capetown, on Trinity Sunday in time for church. 
* * * We sail to-morrow, and hope to reach England 
about the 27 th of next month. The Bishop of Capetown 
will not leave till August ; so we shall see him for a week 
or so. 

God bless you in all your work, and water you also 
yourself, Avhile you ai'e watering others. 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The steamer Waldensian, on board wliicli the pre- 
ceding letter was written, was terribly crowded, and the 
discomfort of the passengers was increased by the rough- 
ness of the weather. An American missionary, with 
his wife and six children, who were amongst the pas- 
sengers, were all ill ; Mackenzie waited upon them, and 
dressed the little ones. The troubles of another family, 
whom he treated in like manner, were further inten- 
sified by the confinement of the mother : when the poor 
woman felt that her hour was come, she said no one 
could be of any comfort to her except the Archdeacon : 
he was with her directly, prayed by her side, and then 
went to superintend the getting of her boxes out of the 
hold. A few days afterwards he baptized the infant at 
the parents' request, giving it the name Charles Frederick 



Mackenzie, himself and his sister standing as sponsors. 
These are some of the " opportunities of being kind," 
to which a passing allusion is made above. 

I find just one short letter, written between the 
Cape and England, to his sister in Edinburgh, which 
I will insert as a record of that voyage, and as indi- 
cating the uncertainty of his future plans, to which I 
have already alluded. 


Ship Athens, July 20, 1S59. 
About 43" N. 26° W. 1364 miles from Lizard Point. 

Dearest , 


We sailed from Capetown on Tuesday June 21st, 
and had a good run as fer as about 10° N. Shice that we 
have been delayed by northerly winds. We are now look- 
ing forward to landing about Friday week, the 29 th. I am 
very anxious to see the Bishop of Capetown as soon as 
possible. He will probably be leaving England by the 
steamer in Augvist. I shall have a good deal to say to 
him. It is not to be generally spoken of yet, but the 
Bishop of Natal has written by this mail to the Bishop of 
Capetown, to say that as soon as he sees his way clear 
he will go himself to the Zulu country, giving up the 
Bishoprick of Natal. I think it most likely that it will 
be a consequence of this that I shall not go to Zulu land 
at all. But this last is in the doubtful things yet. Pray 
for me, dear one, and for all of us, that we may judge 

Wednesday, July 27th. We are getting on well, and 
hope- to be at Plymouth, where this will be posted, by 
noon to-morrow, and to land at Southampton on Friday, 


and be in London on that night. It ^v^ll be most pleasant 
to see you all again. 

The return of Mackenzie to England brought joy 
to many hearts, to none more so than his friends in 
Cambridge. The visit took us very much by surprise : 
in fact, I beheve that the first intimation which we 
received, was the announcement that he was actually 
on English soil. He was very little changed: in man- 
ner and bearing I think not at all, and there was no 
visible diminution of physical strength caused by the 
laborious life which he had been leading: he was the 
same simple-hearted loving friend that he had ever 
been, as modest as ever, and even his joyousness of 
spirit seemed in no degree diminished. 

Soon after his arrival in England I had the pleasure 
of seeing him on his way to Scotland. I said to him, 
" Well, what has brought you to England ?" to which 
he replied with a laugh, " Upon my word, I am unable 
to tell you." He then explained to me the doubtful 
character of his future plans, whether he should be re- 
quired as the head of a Mission into the Zulu country^ 
or whether he should continue to work in Natal. On 
the whole, he seemed to think it probable that his visit 
would turn out to be merely a short one, in which he 
would be able to see his family and friends, and that 
then he would go back to his parish at the Umhlali. 

I lay stress upon this indefiniteness of purpose in 
his visit, because his subsequent connection with the 
Mission to Central Africa could not fail to appear to 
his friends and to himself all the more clearly to be 


directed by the finger of God. The state of the case 
was just this. The Mission had been planned without 
reference to any particular person as head: an efficient 
head was manifestly essential to success : just at the 
moment when it was necessary to make a choice, 
Mackenzie seemed to be thrown in the way, his -con- 
nection with Natal partially broken, his previous life 
and training, and his own personal character, suggesting 
him at once to the Committee of the Mission as the 
man of whom they were in search. 

I here insert two scraps of letters which will illus- 
trate what I have now said, and will exhibit the state 
of Mackenzie's own mind, previous to the proposal that 
he should undertake the Central African Mission. The 
first is written to his sister in Natal, the second, to his 
sister in Edinburgh. 


August 4, 1859. 

It is August 4. We have been on shore close upon a 
week, which has flown like a bird. You will hear from the 
Bishop about S. F. G. They say if all other difficulties are 
removed there will be money forthcoming to support a Mis- 
sionary Bishop in Zulu land. It is pretty clear — quite, in 
fact — that I shall not be at the head of either. So I don't 
see what I have to do in this country, and I tlimk two 
months, or three at the outside, will be the extent of our 
stay. All goes well. We are happy, and I trust God is 
guiding us. 



29, King Street, 

Aurjmt 5, 1859. 

The Bish,opi'icks are virtually settled, and I am very 
thankful to say that I get neither, and shall return to my 
old place in Natal. This is quite right. 

Mackenzie had not, as has been formerly mentioned, 
any special gift of public speaking; and the danger of 
unreality in religious meetings, a danger which every 
one must have felt, would make the work of a deputa- 
tion for a Missionary Society distasteful to his practical 
mind. Nevertheless, he had not been long at home 
before he placed himself at the disposal of the Society 
for the Propagation of the Gospel, and for some months 
laboured vigorously at the task which he had under- 
taken. His family urged him to take rest; but he 
replied, " Work, not rest, is the thing that I want." 

And so matters went on until the time of the great 
meeting in Cambridge, to which reference has been 
already made. It was held in the Senate-house, and 
was called at the time, the " Great Zambesi Meeting." 
Amongst the speakers were the Bishop of Oxford, Mr 
Gladstone, Mr Walpole, and Sir George Grey. Mackenzie 
was asked to preach at Great S. Mary's on the day of 
the meeting, but at the meeting itself he was only a 
listener and spectator. 

The meeting was certainly a very remarkable one ; 
remarkable on account of the place in which it was 
held, remarkable on account of its purpose, and re- 


markable for the zeal and heartiness with which it was 
conducted: perhaps also it was not a little remarkable 
that such a stirring of the heart of the University 
should have been the fruit of the unambitious lecture, 
which Dr Livingstone had delivered in the same place 
not quite two years before^: the Vice-Chancellor, Dr 
Bateson, Master of S. John's College, in opening the 
proceedings, very properly referred to Dr Livingstone 
as the origin of the meeting : he quoted Dr Living- 
stone's parting words, given in page 206, and added, 
" Such was the text, and this grand meeting is the 
commentary." In ordinary language, the meeting was 
a great success : the oratory of the Bishop of Oxford 
and Mr Gladstone, the calm wisdom of Sir George Grey, 
the heartiness of all left nothing to be desired. 

Mackenzie, as has been already said, did not take 
part in this meeting: he was however present, and 
•during the enthusiasm of the proceedings he made a 
remark which was sufficiently characteristic to be worthy 
of being recorded. He was in the gallery of the Senate- 
house in company with some friends : presently he said 
gently to one of them, " I am afraid of this : most 
great works of this kind have been carried on by one 

^ It is only right to say that the introduction of Dr Livingstone to 
the University, and the subsequent missionary movement, were due very 
much to the efforts of the Eev. W. Monk, then Assistant Curate of 
Christ's Church, Cambridge. Professor Sedgwick said at the Meeting-, 
"The map now before you was constructed by Mr Monk, a gentleman 
with whom rests the honour of having first introduced Dr Livingstone to 
to this University — a gentleman, too, who has toiled as no other man 
has toiled, in the promotion of the objects of this meeting. Mr Monk's 
task may, in some respects, have been a humble one ; but humble tasks 
must be performed, and without the performance of such tasks even the 
most powerful might fail." 


or two men in a quieter wa}^, and have liaJ a more 
humble beginning ^" 

He was not however to be permitted to remain as 
a spectator much longer. There was a feeling in the 
minds of almost all those who took an interest in the 
proposed mission, that Mackenzie was beyond all others 
the right man to undertake the work. Those who are 
willing to see the hand of God in small things as well 
as great, might well see in the circumstance of his 
unexpected return from Africa, the entire evanescence 
of the purposes which had brought him home, the 
breaking up of the ties which bound him to ISTatal, 
and above all, the fact that he was here on the spot 
to answer for himself, an indication that he was the 
man whom God would send upon this honourable but 
perilous mission. It was impossible also not to feel that 
he had, independently of his African experience and 
his previous missionary training, great and special quali- 
fications for this particular work : going as it was pro- 
posed that the missionaries should, into a nevv^ and 
barbarous country, with everything to learn, even as 
to the mode of getting the necessary supplies of food, 
it was essential that the head of the party should be 
a man possessed at once of great personal vigour, and 
of those gentle qualities of heart which gain confidence 
and submission under circumstances of trial and danger. 
Mackenzie had precisely the qualities required : every 
one felt it. 

Accordingly, at a Conference of Delegates of the 

^ It was not a little striking that Bishop Tozer, in his visit to Cam- 
bridge, thought it right to warn Cambridge men against resting too 
much upon the recollection of this one great demonstration. 


Oxford and London Committees with the Cambridge 
Committee, held on the 2nd of November, the day- 
succeeding the Meeting in the Senate-house, at which 
the Bishop of Oxford presided, and Sir George Grey- 
was present, the following resolutions were adopted : — 

1. That the plan of this Association be the establish- 
ment of one or more stations in Southern Central Africa, 
which may serve as centres of Christianity and civilisation, 
for the promotion of the spread of tme religion, agriculture, 
and lawful commerce, and the ultimate extirpation of the 

2. That to carry out this plan successfully, the Associa- 
tion desire to send out a body of men, including the fol- 
lowing: — 

Six clergymen with a Bishop at their head, to be con- 
secrated either in this country, or by the three Bishops of 
Southern Africa; a physician, surgeon, or medical practi- 
tioner, and a number of artificers, English and native, capable 
of conducting the various works of building, husbandry, and 
especially of the cultivation of the cotton plant. 

3. The Association contemplate that the cost of esta- 
blishing such a Mission cannot be estimated at less than 
.£20,000, with £2000 a year, promised as annual subscrip- 
tions to support the Mission for five years to come. 

4. That the Secretaries be desired to open communica- 
tions at once with the other Universities, with the clergy 
and friends of missions at large, and with the great centres 
of manufacture and commerce, to invite them to aid by their 
funds, counsel, and co-operation, in carrying out this great 
work for the mutual benefit of Africa and of England. 

5. That the Ven. Charles Frederick Mackenzie, M.A,, 
Eellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, Arch- 
deacon of Pietermaritzburgh (Natal), who is now in England, 
be invited to head the intended Mission. 


6. That the Bishop of Oxford be requested to convey 
this invitation to Archdeacon Mackenzie. 

The invitation was given, and speedily accepted. 
He seems to have considered it unnecessary to consult 
his friends with regard to his conduct : concerning the 
sacrifice of himself he never entertained a doubt : the 
only point which required consideration, was the con- 
dition in which his departure to Central Africa would 
leave his sisters, whom he had been the means of 
taking out to Natal : he felt himself bound to them ; 
but if they could go, he had no ground of hesitation. 

The deliberate purpose with which he undertook 
the work may be judged from the following anecdote. 
He was staying at the time, with his sister, in the house 
of his friend Dr Paget in Cambridge. It seemed to 
Dr Paget right that they should both estimate at its 
true value the personal risk of the undertaking : ac- 
cordingly he said to Miss Mackenzie, " Consider what 
would be the view taken by a Life Assurance Company. 
If your brother shoiild wish to insure his life before 
going on this enterjarise and were to apply to any 
Insurance Company, I feel sure they would not esti- 
mate his chance of life at more than two years." Miss 
Mackenzie was much shocked at first by this plain 
statement; but just then Mackenzie himself came into 
the room, and when his sister told him what Dr Paget 
had said, he took it as a matter of course, not treating 
it lightly, but as a subject which he had already well 
considered, and on which he had come to the same 


The following letter was written to Ms sister in 
Edinburgh, the day after receiving the invitation to 
lead the Mission. 


Caius College, Cambridge, 
Nov. 3, 1S59. 

Dear , 

The past is swallowed up in the present. I hope 
you got my letter from London, bub now I must speak of 
the present. They want me to go at the head of the Zam- 
besi Mission. (The question of the head being consecrated 
or not is not settled, and need not affect my decision.) I am 

ready if can go : if not, I must think what to do. But 

I think and believe she can, and ■ of course can, and I 

fully believe will. So we shall have no difficulty in seeing 
our way. I have not given an answer yet, as we felt we 

did not like to decide on such a step for without you 

all advising. If you agree, I would at once accept. If not, 
we would come down to Scotland and talk it all over. I am 
much interested in this mission. Sir George Grey is most 
hearty in his promises of help. God bless us all in this and 
every thing. 

Good bye. 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. E. M. 

The next letter, to his sister in Natal, was com- 
menced several days before the great Cambridge meet- 
ing; but it will be seen that the latter part of it was 
written three days after that meeting, and that he 
then regarded in his ov/n mind the whole matter as 




London, Oct. 31, 1859. 

We have determined to postpone our return for a month. 
I thought as my hand was in, in the way of begging for 
S. P. G., and as my personal experience of colonial work 
gave me an advantage over a better speaker, I would offer 
to the Society to stay another month and work for them. 
This they have accepted, and have already spoken of my 
going into the diocese of Bath and Wells, from the 10th to 
the 22nd of December. 

Nov. 4. Dear . A has told you something 

about the proposal to go to the Zambesi. The fact of the 
offer having been made to me need be no seci-et; only I 
should like it to be understood correctly that it is the Head- 
ship of the Mission which has been offered me : the question 
of BishoiiricJcs among the heathen, or rather outside Her 
Majesty's dominions, being in abeyance till the Committee 
of Convocation has expressed its opinion. But now as to 

the real thing : it will be a great work, and if you and 

can come with me, I do not hesitate to go. ■ seems clear 

herself, but as we have not heard from Scotland since the 
offer arose, we do not consider it settled. '^ * ■"' '"' I 
hope to be able myself to take a real charge and oversight, 
more firmly now that my sphere is extended, not forgetting 
to consult the actual workers, from whom good suggestions 
often come, but still keeping the reins in my own hands. 
Dear one, I need not say that I trust to your praying for 
me in this new and most responsible office. (I have under- 
taken to give an answer as soon as I can : but in my mind 
I am thinking of it as settled.) We shall now, I sup];)ose, 
have to stay in England for something less than another 
year, trying to raise the necessary funds. I expect to le 


able to come up, and spend (I hope) a montli at Natal, and 
shall be so glad to see you all again. 

The Mission, which began by being the Oxford and 
Cambridge Mission, soon became the Oxford, Cambridge, 
Dublin and Durham Mission to Central Africa. It will 
be observed that in the fourth of the resolutions, given 
on page 218, the Secretaries were desired to open com- 
munications with the other Universities ; this was done, 
and the response was very cordial. The arrangement 
was that each university should have its own local com- 
mittee, that there should be in addition a central 
London committee, and that the acts of these several 
committees should stand to each other in certain definite 
relations, which need not be here explained or dwelt 
upon : though perhaps it may be permissible to express 
a doubt in passing, whether any such system of co-ordi- 
nate committees can be regarded as more than a tem- 
porary arrangement, which must yield eventually to 
something more simple and compact. 

The great work which at once pressed upon the 
friends of the Mission was the raising of the necessary 
funds. A capital sum of £20,000, and a guaranteed in- 
come of £2000 for five years, could not possibly be 
secured without a very considerable effort. Much of the 
effort, it was clear, must come from Mackenzie himself; 
and he was willing to give himself up to this prelimi- 
nary labour on behalf of his Mission, as soon as he 
should have completed his existing engagements to the 
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. His time 
was, in fact, chiefly devoted to travelling through the 


country, for the purpose of making known the Mission 
and raising funds, until his final de^^arture in the 
autumn of the next year. He was assisted in this 
work by several friends, amongst them the Bishop of 
Oxford, of whose kindness Mackenzie was wont to 
speak in warm terms of gratitude and affection. 

The following letter was written to a sister before 
he had commenced work on account of his own mis- 


BuKT St Edmund's, 

Nov. 7, 1859. 
Dear , 

I came here to the railway, and find I am half-an- 
hour too soon; so I have made friends with the cloak-room 
clerk for room to sit, and for ink. 

* -X- * * * 

It is a great undertaking, this of the Zambesi, and 
rather unknown country that one is going to; but still I am 

prepared to undertake it with and . 


Where we should settle is of course a thing to be de- 
cided; we are at present the "Central South African Mis- 
sion." I suppose it would be whei-e Livingstone first struck 
the river at Linyanti, but it might not. I feucy our first 
object would be to find Livingstone, and get his advice. 
But before even that, there will be the work of raising 
funds. With its present intentions the Committee is behind- 
hand in funds. But, dear , think what a grand work 

may grow out of this, if God prosper it ! I am loth, it is 
true, to leave my own parish unprovided for : but as before, 
in leaving Cambridge, I think my present work can be more 
easily provided for, than the proposed. I must find some 


one to take my place, and for immediate wants I think 

will go to the Umlilali, to be busy there till we are ready to 
sail for the Cape; and by that time I think we may find 
some one to relieve him by taking up that work pei-ma- 

My dear , good bye. 

Your affectionate brother, 

C. F. M. 

The next two letters are written to the same sister 
in pencil. 


Geeat Western Eailway, 
Nov. 11, 1859. 
Dear , 

It is not so hard to write in a railway. 

It does my heart and soul good to get a letter from you 
like the one I got to-day. It is indeed a glorious work, and 
my trust is that He who has called me to it will give me 
grace to carry it out. 

Aye, dear , who can tell which of us may be gone 

before another year is over ? How comforting it is to think 
of being so comforted and guided in her last days. 



L. AND B. E. 

Nov. 16, 1859. 

I am on my way from Oxford to Leeds. 

I went to Clerkenwell prison, and talked for 20 minutes 
to a Zulu, who has been spoken of in the newspapers. He 


was wild in the Bush near London, and was taken up for 
stealing a sheep. He will be leniently dealt with, I believe. 
I wish some one would engage him in service. I have 
written to Mrs about him, hoping that with her know- 
ledge of Zulus she might be willing to try him. Poor fellow, 
he has such a lively remembrance of the horrors of sea-sick- 
ness that he will not agree to go back to Natal. 

Thank you, dear ■ , for the freedom of your letter. 

I don't think freedom to myself ever distresses me : freedom 
of expression about other people does sometimes, when I 
think things are said or thought which had better not be 
either said or thought. 

* -x- * * * 

God bless us all, and lead us into all truth. 

The interest taken by Mackenzie in tlie Zulu re- 
ferred to in the preceding letter was very characteristic 
of him. A mutual friend writing to me says : " Do you 
remember any particulars about Ned, the Kafir, who 
was prosecuted for sheep-stealing at a police-court in 
London? Mackenzie took a deep interest in his case, 
and maintained that he had mistaken a tame sheep for 
a wild 'bok:' on Ned's release, he intended to take 
him for his servant, and so preserve him from further 
difficulties with the policemen and magistrates. He 
was staying with us at the time, and arranged for the 

poor Kafir to come to him at ; and on the night 

on which he was to arrive we all sat up late expecting 
him by the last train, but some other friend had adopted 
the Kafir and given him a lodging, and so my house 
was denied the honour. Poor fellow! he was shortly 
afterwards kiUed by the buffer of an engine, on the rail • 



way near Rugby. You may imagine witli how much 
interest our whole party, including Miss Mackenzie, sat 
up, expecting Ned's arrival. Our house is not a large 
one, and Mackenzie with his sister and another visitor 
occupied all our spare rooms : the question therefore 
was. Where was Ned to sleep ? for domestic difficulties, 
like all other difficulties which opposed themselves to 
what he considered his plain duty, never once entered 
his mind until they were encountered and overcome. 
The only place which we could arrange for our expected 
guest was the floor of the day-nursery, which created 
a strange combination of curiosity and alarm in the 
minds of our children, who were nevertheless more dis- 
appointed than relieved when it was discovered in the 
morning that Ned had not arrived." 

With one more letter, written to his sister in Na- 
tal, I bring to a close the, to him, eventful year 1859. 


Leeds, Dec. i, 1859. 
Dear , 

You will have been for the last montli gradually 
becoming more sure that our work is to be in Central 
Africa; and so it is. We found that the people at home 
did not wish to throw any obstacles in the way, and Sir 
George Grey's opinion was so distinct, that though it would 

not do well for (what did for her did for you, so you 

were not named,) to go up with the first expedition, yet that 
she might certainly, so far as he could see, join the mission 
after it had settled itself, that I determined on the 8th of 
November to accept the post of head of the mission. 

I ti'y not to let my head be turned : but it is a little 
dizzy to be on what I believe is one of the highest Church 


pinnacles at this moment in England. Livingstone's name 
adds interest to the scene. The two Universities having 
joined to start the mission gives great weight to the under- 
taking, and the warm interest taken in it by the Bishop of 
Oxford excites people's enthusiasm. I feel a little like what 
you felt when you went to Ekukanyeni, expecting the time 
when people will find me out. But then the calming, sobei*- 
ing thought is : Be more and more conscious that the work is 
for One who has nothing to find out, from whom no secrets 
are hid, and who has called me to this work, knowing that 
I am frail and foolish, and who expects, indeed, that we 
shall do all and give up all for Him, but does not expect 

I have been working for S. P. G. these last two months, 
and shall go on till Christmas. Next year I shall be work- 
ing for my own mission : now I am fulfilling pi'omises made 
before Nov. 2. I do not so much dislike this pleading as I 
was sure I should. It is a sort of preaching, and I think 
quite as much of the good of the i^eople I speak to as of the 
good I expect to get from them for those abroad. 


Dear , how wonderfully He has made our way plain 

before our face. Not even the Bishop could foresee what 
would be the end of my coming home. 

The year 1860 was pre-eminently one of bustling 
and exciting labour. He now fairly began to work on 
account of his own mission, and was almost constantly 
travelling, preaching, and speaking, until his depai'ture 
in the autumn for his distant field of work. Letters, 
therefore, except of a purely business character, were 
of necessity rare: at all events very few have come 
into my hands. 



One question of great and very general interest was 
raised by the scheme for a mission in Central Africa, 
namely, the propriety of sending out such missions 
under the direction of a bishop. The question was not 
a yery simple one, and different opinions were enter- 
tained concerning its solution. In the first place the 
expediency and propriety of sending a bishop under 
such circumstances might be regarded as open to dis- 
cussion ; and supposing this point resolved in the affirm- 
ative, it would be open to doubt what the status of 
such a missionary bishop should be with regard to his 
Episcopal brethren, and with regard to his canonical 
obedience to a metropolitan; while the peculiar rela- 
tion of the Church to the State in England threw in 
the additional question as to the power of the bishops 
of the Church of England to consecrate without license 
of the Crown. It was agreed to refer the whole matter 
to the judgment of the Convocation of the Province of 

At the session of January 25, 1860, the committee 
of the Lower House of Convocation presented a report, 
which, having been adopted, was sent up as a repre- 
sentation from the Lower to the Upper House. I think 
I shall put this important proceeding in the clearest 
light by recording what took place subsequently in the 
Upper House of Convocation, namely, at their session of 
June 8. The Bishop of Oxford presented on that occa- 
sion the following report of the committee of the Upper 
House, moving at the same time that the report be 
printed and communicated to the Lower House. 



The committee of the Upper House of Convocation of 
the Province of Canterbury, appointed to consider the re- 
port of the Lower House on missionary Bishops, have met 
and considered the same, and resolved to repoi-t — 

1. That we highly approve of the course pursued by 
the committee of the Lower House in endeavoiiring to ascer- 
tain the practice of the primitive Church, as it may be in- 
ferred from Holy Scripture and from early ecclesiastical 

2. That we do not feel it needful to make any special 
remarks on paragraphs 2 to 8. 

3. That in giving a modified assent to paragraphs 8 
and 12, we must observe that in many cases the adjacent 
Church, however anxious to evangelise the native heathen, 
will be unable, in its own infant condition, to supply men 
or funds for the work, but must throw the burden on the 
mother Church at home, whatever aid may be rendered to it 
by the Bishops of the contiguous dioceses or province. 

4. That we deem it undesirable to divert from a yet 
unestablished and feeble diocese the energy and attention 
which are absolutely needful for its own development, by 
leading the Bishop of such a diocese to undertake arduous 
duties and indefinite responsibilities beyond its proper 

5. That as in such cases it may often be most conve- 
nient that the missionary Bishop should be sent ovit by the 
Church at home, it is expedient to ascertain whether any 
impediment exists to the power of the Archbishops and 
Bishops at home to consecrate Bishops for missionary service 
in heathen countries external to her Majesty's diminions. 

6. That the consecration of missionary Bishops, the 
sphere of whose labour is virtually the extension of a pre- 
viously established province, should be regulated in accord- 


ance with ancient rule ; and that such missionary Bishops 
should owe canonical obedience to the local Metropolitan, 
if any, the local Metropolitan owing canonical obedience to 
the Archbishop of Canterbuiy. 

7. That in addition to the guarantees named in pa- 
ragraph 16, every missionary Bishop should engage to main- 
tain the doctrine and discipline of our Reformed Apostolical 
Church, as contained in her Articles and Liturgy, and that, 
so far as may be, the authorised vei'sion of the Holy Scrip- 
tures should be adopted as the basis of translations of the 

8. That, looking first to the fact that where dioceses 
have been or may be constituted in foreign parts not subject 
to the statute law of the United Kingdom, the Bishops, 
though they may be held to be bound by the decrees of the 
mother Church which were in force at the time of their con- 
secration, and by the Canons of 1603, so far as those canons 
apply to the circumstances of their dioceses, are yet in no 
way subject to new decrees and canons to which they have 
not assented ; and secondly, looking to the great and con- 
tinually advancing development of the Colonial Church, to 
the several peculiarities under which it is beginning in many 
districts to assume a fixed shape, to its want of endowments, 
and to the time which must elapse before its clergy or laity 
can enjoy the advantages of the Church at home as to fixity 
of institutions or familiarity with ecclesiastical law ; there 
seems to us to be special need of combined counsels to main- 
tain in unity the Chxu'ch as it extends. That by a regular 
gradation of duly constituted Synods all questions afiecting 
iinity might be duly settled ; Diocesan Synods determining 
all matters not ordered by the Synod of the province ; Pro- 
vincial Synods determining all matters not ox'dered by a 
National Synod ; a National Synod ordering all matters not 
determined by a General Council. Unity with necessary 
variety might thus be secured to our spreading branch of 
the Holy Catholic Church. 


"WTierenpon. the President stated that he had received 
the following representation of the Lower House on the 
same subject : — 

Representation of the Lower House of Convocation on the 
Subject of Missionary Bishops. 

1. We have first considered what were the principles 
by which the j)rimitive Church was guided with respect to 
planting missions, so far as they may be inferred fi-om Holy 
Scripture and from early ecclesiastical records, and we have 
then endeavoured to apply these principles to the present 
condition and circumstances of the Church of England. 

2. We gather from the New Testament that the Apo- 
stles were missionary Bishops in the fullest sense of the 
term ; that they went about from place to place preaching 
the Gospel, planting Churches, and giving directions for 
their government. 

3. As the Church increased, the Apostles conferred 
Episcopal authority on others, whom, under Divine guidance, 
they invested with the government of certain Churches — as 
Timothy at Ephesus and Titus in Crete. 

4. Passing from the New Testament to the uninspired 
records of the early Church, it appears that the practice of 
primitive Christian antiquity with regard to the organization 
of missions is involved in considerable obscurity. 

5. The Church grew and was extended continually by 
the power of the indwelling Spirit ; but the manner of her 
extension does not appear to have been uniform or inva- 
riable. Ecclesiastical history fails to supply us with any 
certain or precise information upon this point. We find 
that Bishops frequently preached the Gospel to the heathen, 
and that the other orders of the ministry and even laymen 
were instrumental in sowing the first seeds of the Gospel in 
countries where it had before been unknown. There is 
abundant evidence, however, to shew that when Christian 
congi-egations had been gathered out of heathendom, and by 


whatever instrumentality, they were placed as soon as pos- 
sible under the care of a Bishop. 

6. We proceed to apply these general principles to the 
present circumstances of our Church. 

7. In considering the mode of the extension of Christian 
missions amongst the heathen external to her Majesty's 
dominions, a distinction should be drawn between the case 
of heathen tribes lying contiguous to a Christian people and 
that of heathen isolated and removed from any Christian 
Church, to whom an opening may be made along the path- 
way of science or of commerce, or by any other leading of 
God's providence. 

8. We trust that our Church will be always zealous to 
act upon the ancient practice that the Bishops should en- 
deavour to convert the heathen adjacent to their dioceses, 
and where these efforts are blessed with success and new 
congregations are gathered, or where the blessing of the 
Gospel is sought from our hands in any considerable num- 
bers by the heathen lying beyond our borders, or by rulers 
desirous of evangelizing their subjects, we further ti-ust that 
the uniform practice of Christian antiquity will be followed 
in the providing of additional chief pastors of the Church to 
minister among them. 

9. There are cases in which it may be expedient to 
send out presbyters in the first instance as evangelists, as for 
example, where the Church has to originate missions to the 
heathen lying in close contiguity to the existing diocese. 

10. But we think also that thei'e are cases in which it 
may b® desirable to send forth a Bishop at once as the head 
of a mission ; as for example — 

I. Where a large staff of missionaries is necessary ; or 

II. Where a large and imposing organisation has to 

be confronted, especially in regions lying remote 
from any diocese of our Church. 

11. The expediency or inexpediency of sending out a 
missionary Bishop in the fir-st instance can, howevei', only be 


determined by the particular circumstances of the case as it 
may arise. 

12. "With regard to the heathen bordering upon a 
Christian people, we think that the converts should, in the 
first instance, be provisionally under the care of the Bishop 
of an adjacent diocese ; and that all further arrangements 
respecting the government of such missions should be deter- 
mined by a Synod of the adjacent province. 

13. With regard to the more remote missions, we con- 
sider that the proper authority for determining when it is 
expedient to send out a Bishop would be that of an Arch- 
bishop, or other Metropolitan, with his Suffragans ; and 
that during the missionary condition of such Episcopate, the 
Bishop sent out should owe canonical obedience to the con- 
secrating Metropolitan. 

14. Our instructions not requiring us to enter upon the 
legal question whether the Church of England has the power 
to send forth Bishops into heathen terj-itories beyond the 
limits of the British dominions, we have framed our report 
upon the supposition that she has this power. 

15. In the entire uncertainty which necessarily exists 
as to the relations in which any new Churches formed in 
foreign countries may stand to the civil and temporal rulers 
of those countries, we feel it impossible to lay down any 
rules for the permanent relations of the mother Church. 

16. The guarantees for the future orthodoxy and good 
discipline of Churches not yet existing must be found chiefly, 
under the Divine blessing, in the prudence and enlightened 
wisdom of the Bishop and presbyters who may form any 
particular mission. We conceive that, with regard to the 
admission of converts, they would guide themselves by the 
analogy of such precautions as the Church has taken in her 
forms for the baptism of infants and adults, and that, with 
regard to the transmission of spiritual authority, they would, 
in like manner, adopt the analogy of similar precautions to 
be found in the Ordinal of the Book of Common Prayer. 


17. In conclusion, we earnestly pray that abundant 
supplies of wisdom, as well as zeal, may be vouchsafed to all 
those who are endeavouring to extend the kingdom of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ throughout the world. 

The following resolution was then put and agreed 
to, on the motion of the Bishop of Oxford : — 

That this house has read the representation made to it 
by the Lower House : that in reply thereto they inform the 
Lower House that a committee of the Upper House have 
considered upon a report on the same subject made to the 
Lower House, and by it communicated to this house ; that 
the rejioi't so made to this house has this day been received 
and adopted ; that this house having taken into considera- 
tion the representation of the Lower House, considers it can 
best reply thereto by communicating to the Lower House its 
own report, since that report deals with the subject contain- 
ed in the representation. 

The Bishop of Oxford then moved further : — 

That this house having heard, with thankfulness to God, 
of the prospect of a mission being led by the Venerable 
Archdeacon Mackenzie into Southern Central Africa, desire 
to express their deep interest therein, and their hope that 
the Bishop of Capetown and his Comprovincials may be able 
to see fit to admit the head of this mission into the Episcopal 
order before he be sent forth to the heathen. 

This resolution gave rise to a discussion, but was 
eventually put and carried. 

I have thought it well to give in detail the history 
of this question in connection with Convocation, because 
it undoubtedly marks an important epoch in the history 
of the Church of England, and because the hope ex- 
pressed by the Bishops at home concerning the conduct 


which the Bishops in South Africa might see fit to 
adopt, was subsequently realized, and was the means, 
under God, of giving to the Church of England her 
first Missionary Bishop. 

The next three letters contain not much important 
matter, but I cannot refrain from giving them a place 
in this memoir, as being almost the only record by 
Mackenzie's own hand of this very laborious portion 
of his life. 


{To a Sister.) 

The Irish Chaxnel, 

Jan. 28, i860. 

Dear , 

Here I go across the water to Dubhn. I left Lon- 
don yesterday morning, and got to Kidderminster, where I 
was kindly received by the clergyman, Mr Claughton. He 
had arranged to have four services with sermons on Missions 
on the four Fridays of the Epiphany season, and offered me 
any one I liked, saying that I should have a collection at 
mine, and that there should be none at the others. * * * 
"We got £38, which is almost the best weekday collection I 

have had. 


Pear , I am sometimes low, and not without rea- 
son, I think, when I find myself doing my work, especially 
preaching, badly for want of preparation, and still more for 
want of earnestness and faith at the moment. Last Wednes- 
day I was very angry with myself on that score, and was 
more disturbed at the Communion which we had than I 
think I ever was since my first; but yesterday encouraged 
me again. 

Here is Dublin. I have a difficult work to do. I hardly 
expect to bring it to a successful issue. I came to preach 
three sermons on Sunday for S. P. G., but I went also to 


arrange with the authorities of the University about their 
co-operation with us. We want to get their warm and 
hearty suppox't; we would have a separate list for the con- 
tributions of Dublin University, and they would, I suppose, 
canvass for us in Ireland. 


{To a Sister.) 


Feb. 4, 1S60. 
* * * -» * 

It is a grand scheme. I often quail to think I am at 
the head of it, but I oftener thank God that this work, 
which He determined to be done, He has entrusted to me. 
. And I look to Him to give me grace to carry ib out. It is 
a sore blow to be removed from all those friends whom we 
have made in ISTatal. But then the scope is so enormous, 
and I think the hopes of success very bright. We have 
Livingstone to help and advise us. We have a very strong 
interest in our favour throughout the country, stronger I 
believe than ever a mission had before : and I seldom end 
my address to the meetings I attend without solemnly ask- 
ing them for their pi-ayei's, and saying that success is as 
much dependent on their endeavours in this way as on ours 
upon the spot. 

Good bye. 

Your affectionate bx'other, 

C. F. M. 
{To a Sister.) 


May 23, iS6o. 
Dear , 

The meeting here has been, so far as we have yet 
seen, a great success ; and I am most thankful. The huge 


room perfectly crowded : ladies standing the whole time : 
about 4,000 people must have been there. For myself, I 
felt not flurried, but able to say what I wanted, though in 
these large assemblages I seldom feel able to speak to peo- 
ple's religious sentiments as I can in a smaller body. I 
mean to make that a special object to-morrow. * * * 
Then came Lord Brougham, for 35 minutes or so, full of 
energy. It was a lesson in speaking which was not thrown 
away upon me, I hope. 

The meeting referred to in the preceding letter was 
one of three, namely, at Manchester, Liverpool, and 
Leeds, which were attended by Lord Brougham. It 
was certainly not the least striking feature of the 
movement connected with the Central African Mission, 
that it should induce Lord Brougham to appear as a 
speaker upon a missionary platform. But, in truth, 
his conduct was thoroughly intelligible and consistent : 
he saw in it only the continuation of the war which 
he had waged strenuously for many years against the 
slave-trade : it was one of the professed features of the 
mission, that it was to appear in Africa as the an- 
tagonist to and witness against the accursed traffic, 
which has so long pressed and still presses as a heavy 
weight upon that afflicted country : and therefore it 
was no eccentricity, but a natural sequel to much of his 
earlier conduct, that Lord Brougham should commend 
to the support of all those who felt with him on the 
subject of the slave-trade, an honest and brave effort 
in the direction of African emancipation. The three 
meetings, at Manchester, Liverpool, and Leeds, were the 
largest and most strikino: of those in which Mackenzie 


took a part, and I think I shall do them no more than 
justice if I introduce here a report taken from a news- 
paper, {The Guardian) of the period. 


Last week will ever be a memorable one in the annals of 
this mission, and we believe of Church Missions in general. 
A deputation, consisting of the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop 
of Oxford, the Right Hon. Loixl Brougham, and the Yen. 
Archdeacon Mackenzie, visited our three greatest centres of 
commerce and manufacture on three successive daN's, the 
23rd, 24th, and 25th of the present month. Their reception 
in each place was as cordial and hearty as can well be con- 
ceived. Manchester was first visited, and there the deputa- 
tion, during its stay, was most hospitably entertained by 
Mr Robert Barnes, one of the wealthiest merchants of that 

The meeting was held in the aftex'noon, and never do we 
remember to have seen a goodlier sight. The enormous Free 
Trade Hall was literally crammed, and it is estimated thab 
at least 5,000 persons were present. Lord Brougham com- 
menced his speech by saying that it was " by very much the 
largest meeting he had ever yet seen assembled within doors ;" 
and we believe it was the largest meeting that was ever 
gathered together in Manchester in the daytime. 

This multitude listened with the liveliest attention and 
apparent interest to the plain, straightforward, earnest state- 
ment of the head of the mission, the powerful and energetic 
speech of the veteran ex-Chancellor, and the thrilling elo- 
quence of the Bishop of Oxford. 

The Hon. Algernon Egerton, M.P. for South Lancashire, 
presided, and the Rev. Richard G-resswell, of Worcester 
College, Oxford, T. Bazley, Esq., M.P., the Rev. Canon 
Clifton, and Robert Barnes, Esq., likewise addressed the 


meeting. About ,£150 was collected in the room, and four 
donations of £100 each were received. These, we hope, are 
a mere instalment of the large sum which may reasonably be 
expected from the wealthy and liberal men of Manchester. 

On Thursday the members of the deputation went to 
Liverpool, and became the guests of Mr William Brown ', so 
well known for his munificent gifts for the benefit of the 
woi'king classes of the town. 

The meeting was held in the evening in the Philharmo- 
nic Hall, and about 3,000 persons were present. The chair 
was taken by the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Chester. 
Here the Bishop of Oxford almost surpassed himself, and 
was peculiarly happy in some of his remarks, especially in 
the opening part of his speech. The following is the con- 
clusion of his lordshii^'s speech : 

*'I walked to-day with my kind host, your honoured townsman, 
Mr Brown — I walked with him to-day upon your noble quays. I heard 
from him something of the tale of wonder of this your wonderful com- 
munity. He told me of the fifty years which had elapsed since he had 
first known the town, and of the growth of its population from 90,000 
people to half a million. He told me of the yearly addition now to its 
numbers of some 10,000 more. He told me how these quays had grown, 
as commerce from every part of the earth had flowed into them with 
such increasing abundance, so that now it would take a man a walk 
of fourteen miles to go along the whole of these quays of yours, upon 
which are now disembarked all the wealth of every wealthy part of the 
globe. I looked around upon your town, and saw its buildings rising 
in magnificence — saw how God had put it into the heart of this man to 
give that noble library upon that noble site— aye, and I felt, and I 
know you will feel, that great as is that material gift, the gift of the 
heart that planned it was a greater gift to Livei-pool than the gift of 
the library it furnished. I looked and I saw your churches rising upon 
eveiy side, and testifying everywhere that you were caring for the souls 
of men, and ministering to them the unsearchable riches of Christ. I 
saw, even in the poor parts of the town, what, when I came to in- 
quire about them, I was told were the buildings furnished, in order 
that the most abject of your people might be delivered from their cel- 
lar life, and might Uve in health and comfort above the earth. I saw 

^ Now Sir William Brown, Bart. 


this, and I thanked God that He had given to the people of Liverpool 
not only great wealth and great opportunity, but a wise and under- 
standing heart to appreciate and to use its gifts. I saw it, and as I 
stood upon the quay that good man said to me, ' Look at that arm of 
the sea flowing in round yonder point ; see all this massing of wealth, 
these forests of masts filling the mighty docks ; and there are no ships 
of war guarding it ; an enemy might come in, and what should we do 
to resist him V What a tale was it, after all, of God's gift of peace 
and security, and of righteous confidence in themselves, because they 
believed that their God would be with them. Well, I went on, and the 
thought rose within me, Are we using these gifts for the Giver; are 
we returning to Him according to His gift to us ? Now, that is the 
question I would ask you to put to yourselves. Ah ! my friends, it is 
not the first time, nor is it the hundredth time that these blessings of 
God have been showered upon a people, and because that people 
upon whom they were showered used them selfishly for themselves, 
the very gifts became their ruin, turned into poison under them, both 
as to their bodies and as to their souls. You remember how it is 
written in His Word, that the sins of Sodom grew from fulness of 
bread, and abundance of idleness. And yet what can that 'idle- 
ness' mean? There could not have been this 'fulness of bread' if 
there had not been a good deal of activity in raising the fruits of the 
earth and storing them. Therefore, in God's Word idleness cannot 
mean sitting with the hands folded and doing nothing. There is an- 
other and a higher meaning in it; it is the not using for the Giver 
the Giver's gifts : that is the ' idleness ' meant in God's Word. And 
so, I ask you, if God has given us the faith in its purity, His Word 
in our owm tongue, aye, and in the raciest accents of our own beloved 
fathers; if He has given us formularies with which to worship Him, 
venerable for their antiquity, and beloved by us for their devotion ; if 
He has given to us His ministry in the completeness of its organiza- 
tion, and His Church in the perfect sense of its beauty, I ask you 
has He given us all this that we may rejoice before Him in spiritual 
selfishness and fold our hands in spiritual idleness? No, but He 
has given it to us for Him, to bless others in its use. There is an 
oath on high, that he who doeth not the will of his God shall be put 
down from the post to which he was lifted up that he might perform 
it. Ah, and this very country of Africa may give one fearful lesson 
to us this night. Cast your eyes one single moment, in thought, over 
the whole of the northern coast of Africa. What is it now ? The 
Mussulman possesses it. Its goodly fields are laid waste, and the 
French wrangle with and slay the Arab in cruel fight again to possess 
it : and the name of Christ is hardly heard upon it. And what was it ? 


A Church in which once 500 Bishops met together in their solemn 
Synod: a land which fed the neighbouring Italy with the abundance of 
its harvests, and which, looked down upon by a favouring heaven, ren- 
dered back again to it every fruit that maketh man's heart glad and 
man's labour productive. And why has this change come upon it ? 
My friends, it came from this— that they had, without imparting any- 
thing, clutched in spiritual selfishness what God meant them to distri- 
bute. They allowed the neighbouring people of Northern Africa to live 
on in their ignorance, without making any attempt to evangelize them, 
and so when the flood of Mohammedan invasion swept upon them, what 
were they? A handful upon the sea-border, instead of being the evan- 
gelizers of the people reaching on into the centre of Africa, who might 
have swept that invading wave across the sands into the sea, if only 
they had used their opportunity and united that people to Christ. There 
is a lesson, then, for us, and God forbid that we should not learn it. 
And I thought, after all, if that great arm of the sea upon which I 
looked in its beauty to-day, sparkling like a brilliant under the sun- 
beam, as the western wind chafed it into a little mimicry of motion — 
if the whole of that space was crowded with ships of war, if it was com- 
manded from every part by your Armstrong guns, is it not written on 
high that ' it is in vain to keep the city except the Lord keepeth it' ? 
and if He looked in anger upon it, what would become of your best 
fortifications and most watchful defences? 0, there are still, depend 
upon it, for the eye of faith, angel squadrons encamping round about 
God's people, and prayers, in mighty phalanxes, defending His Church. 
Let England be true to England's mission ; let her understand that it 
is hers to keep the faith in its purity, and to spread the faith in its 
truth ; that it is hers to teach her people to love Christ, not to wrangle 
about Him, and then leave the Cross of Christ in the face of the world, 
longing in its dumb agony for the enfranchisement which that alone 
can give to it. Let England in this way rise indeed to the mighti- 
ness of her opportunity ; and the God of wisdom and the God of battles 
will preserve her virgin soil from being tainted with the foot of an 
enemy, and enable us to hand on to our children's children what we 
have received from our venerated fathers — the lower gifts of prosperity 
and power, and the higher gifts of the purity of the faith and the 
abundance of worship." 

Leeds came last iu order, and here also the meeting took 
place in the evening, and was held in that magnificent Town 
Hall of which the people of Leeds ai'e £0 justly proud. The 
large room was filled to overflowing, and the reception given. 



to their former representative, Henry Brougham, and to 
their brother Yorkshireman, the son of Wilberforce, must 
have gladdened the hearts of those illustrious men. 

"We believe that about £11,000 in donations, and £1000 
in annual subscriptions, have been already gathered. Surely 
these three wealthy cities will speedily set at rest all doubt 
about the remaining portion required. 

There is little more to be said concerning Bishop 
]\Iackenzie's life and work till lie left England : it was 
a very busy and anxious time, but it must, I think, on 
the whole, have been a happy time, proving to him 
as it must have done, how much the work to which 
he had devoted himself was esteemed, and how much 
love he had gained, both for his own and for his work's 
sake. He had, as will be readily believed, abundant 
practice, both in preaching and speaking, and at this 
period his preaching vsras usually without book : he 
acquired thus a readiness of speech, and his addresses 
were very telling from their extreme simplicity and 
manifest sincerity. 

One of Mackenzie's companions in his journeys on 
account of the mission was the Rev. George Williams, 
Fellow of King's College, Cambridge ; he has been kind 
enough to write the following. 

" You have asked me to give some account of him, 
as we travelled together for the object to which he 
had deliberately devoted his life. No one will under- 
stand better than yourself, who knew him so well, that 
I can recall nothing specially worth recording. The 
same lovely simplicity of character, the same utter 
forgetfulness of self, the same simplicity of devotion, 


of which he was himself so wholly unconscious, at- 
tended him everywhere, and drew all hearts to him. 

" It was impossible to travel so far with such an 
object, without encountering some contretemps and dis- 
appointments, more or less vexatious, particularly in 
thin meetings and unsympathetic audiences. But I never 
saw his equanimity disturbed for one moment, never 
heard one impatient expression pass his lips, but ever 
found in him a bright and beautiful example of that 
charity which ' seeketh not her own, is not easily pro- 
voked, thinketh no evil, . . . beareth all things, believeth 
all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.' 

" The memory of those days passed in his society 
will ever be among the brightest of my life." 

For some time before he left England it became 
quite an understood thing, that Mackenzie was to be 
consecrated Bishop after his arrival at the Cape of Good 
Hope.' The proceedings of the Convocation of the 
Province of Canterbury had cleared away, as was be- 
lieved, every difficulty, and it was held to be beyond 
a doubt, that the Bishops of South Africa would follow 
the manifest wish of their brethren in England, and 
consecrate the Missionary Bishop. All arrangements were 
therefore made upon the supposition that Mackenzie 
was Bishop-designate. It was thought convenient that 
he should sail with a first party of missionaries to the 
Cape of Good Hope, towards the end of the year. 

The last meeting which he attended in Enoiand, 
was at Brighton. The Bishop of Oxford was with him 
upon this occasion, and urged the cause of the mission 
with his usual earnestness : they travelled from Brighton 



together, to attend the farewell service in Canterbury- 
cathedral, of which I shall have more to say presently. 
With regard to the Brighton meeting, I have nothing 
to record save that it was his last. 

From Brighton also Mackenzie wrote the last letter 
in England that has con^e to my hands. It is addressed 
to a young man in deacon's orders, who had thought 
of joining the Central African Mission; the gentleness 
of its tone, and the period at which it was written, 
seem to entitle it to a place in these pages. 



Sept. 29, i860. 
My dear , 

We thought of you much during last week and on 
Sunday, and I now write a single line to say, God bless you 
in yoxir work. 

I think the Collect for the first Sunday after the Epi- 
phany expresses what I would pray for you and myself, that 
we may be taught what He would have us to do, and that 
we may be made Avilling in the day of His Power. 

Be not discouraged if you do not quite fulfil your own 
hopes. They would be too low if you could. Neither ba 
elated if you seem to succeed : it is He that worketh in us : 
but ever strive to work in His strength. Good bye. 

Yours affectionately, 

C. F. M. 

We go on board at Southampton on the 4th, and sail 
from Plymouth on the 6 th, God willing. 

On Tuesday, October 2, there was a farewell service 
at Canterbury. A large number of friends of the Mis- 
sion and personal friends of Mackenzie were gathered 


together for the pui-pose of joining with him in solemn 
worship, and wishing God-speed to him and his work. 
The service commenced at half-past ten: the spacious 
choir of the cathedral was crowded: the Holy Com- 
munion was administered to several hundreds : the 
offertory amounted to £400. TJie sermon was preached 
by the Bishop of Oxford, from Jeremiah xxxix. lo — 17, 
" Now the word of the Lord came unto Jeremiah, while 
he was shut up in the court of the prison, saying. Go 
and speak to Ebed-melech the Ethiopian, saying, Thus 
saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel ; Behold, I 
will bring My words upon this city for evil, and not for 
good ; and they shall be accomplished in that day before 
thee. But I will deliver thee in that day, saith the 
Lord: and thou shalt not be given into the hand of the 
men of whom thou art afraid." I will produce here the 
concluding passage, not merely for its own sake, but be- 
cause Mackenzie referred to it afterwards in conver- 
sation, as having really cheered his heart, and as having 
been the means of giving him a support which he felt 
at the time that he much required. I had the privilege 
of being placed next to him in the cathedral, and could 
not but notice his calm resigned expression of counte- 
nance during the whole service. Here is the passage : 

And for Thee, true yoke-fellow and brother well be- 
loved, who leadest forth this following ; to Thee in this our 
parting hour — whilst yet the grasped hand tarries in the 
embrace of love — to Thee what shall we say 1 Surely what, 
before he gave over to younger hands his rod and staff, God's 
great prophet said of old to his successor, — " Be strong and 
of a good courage : for thou must go with this people unto 
the land which the Lord hath sworn unto their fathers to 


give them; and Thou shalt cause them to inherit it. And 
the Lord, He it is that doth go before thee ; He will be with 
thee, He will not fail thee, neither forsake thee : fear not, 
neither be dismayed'." 

What can man's voice add to that solace ? He at whose 
dear call thou goest forth, He shall be with thee ; thou shalt 
know the secret of His presence ; thou shalt see, as men see 
not here in their peaceful homes, the nail-pierced hands, and 
the thorn-crowned brow. Thou shalt find, as His great 
saints have found before thee, when He has lured them into 
the desert wilderness, that He alone is better than all beside 
Himself. "When thy heart is weakest, He shall make it 
strong; when all others leave thee, He shall be closest to 
thee; and the revelation of His love shall turn danger into 
jDeace, labour into rest, suffering into ease, anguish into joy, 
and martyrdom, if so He order it, into the prophet's fiery 
chariot, bearing thee by the straightest course to thy most 
desired home. 

In the afternoon there was a luncheon in the crypt 
of S. Augustine's College, speeches were made by the 
Warden of S. Augustine's, the Bishop of Oxford, the 
Dean of Canterbury, and others. In the course of his 
address, the Dean of Canterbury said : " The service of 
this day must, I am sure, have gone to all hearts, and 
called forth, I had almost said, tears from every eye. 
There is a Httle circumstance connected with this day's 
gathering, which, though trifling in itself, may be not 
inappropriately mentioned here. A tree has recently 
been brought to this country of a size surpassing all 
former growths ; and Archdeacon Mackenzie has done 
me to-day the honour of planting in my garden, a 
specimen of the Wellingtonea Gigantea. May our Mis- 

' Deut. xxxi. 7, 8. 


sion resemble it in its growth and in its greatness, ful- 
filling the emblem of Him who said of the least of all 
seeds, that when it is grown it is the greatest among 
herbs, and becometh a tree, and covereth all the nations 
of the earth with its branches. May this be typical of 
our Mission !" The Bishop of Oxford made a happy allu- 
sion to the African blood of the man who was " chosen 
by the providence of God to bear up the hill of shame 
the Cross of Salvation, under which the Saviour fainted. 
They laid hold of one Simon, of Cyrene; him they 
compelled to bear His Cross." Mackenzie expressed 
himself somewhat as follows. 

I would very gladly on this day Lave kept my seat, 
and been content with, listening to what others had to say 
for our encouragement, warning, and instruction. But I 
cannot do so, because I represent not merely myself, but my 
fellow-workers, who have given up themselves to go forth 
with me to carry on the work of the Lord. For their sake 
I feel that I must not keep silence, and I return you the 
best thanks in my power for all that you have done for 
ns, for the welcome you have given us personally, and for 
your efforts in favour of the cause in which we are embarked. 
I thank the Warden of this venerable place, whose walls 
have received us, only a young branch of the Church, and 
inspired us with greater strength for the work that awaits 
us in Africa. To the other friends, whether now present 
or not, we give our sincerest thanks for the trouble they 
have all taken to secure our comfort, and the kind wel- 
come that has everywhere greeted us. This opportunity 
of publicly acknowledging our obligations is the more wel- 
come, by reason of its being the last one that we shall have 
before our leaving England. Let all, then, of those hearty 
friends in Canterbury, or in the other parts of England 
which we have visited, take this assurance, on my word — 


that often and often tlie tliought of their kindness will rise 
up to our memory in days to come, refreshing lis by our 
knowledge of their interest in our well-being, and conscious 
that we have their prayers for our success. Yes, and many, 
too, whose names I could not now mention, will be restored 
to our memory in those distant parts, and we shall often 
think with gratitude of the kind farewell they gave us in 
England. Before sitting down, let me make one more re- 
mai'k. It is well on this, as on all other occasions like the 
present, to have some definite and fixed object, by which we 
may settle in our minds the remembrance of this day's 
gathering. It seems to me that the most practical way of 
doing this will be by imitating an example which was set in 
another part of England some years ago, and which met with 
a very satisfactory success. They formed an association of 
the friends of the cause, and named one day in the year for 
a general meeting, when an account of what had been done 
during the past twelve months was produced. Besides this, 
they subscribed to a special fund for some particular object 
having to do with the cause; and, in the case which I am 
mentioning, they raised as much as £50 a-year, and some- 
times £70. It may be objected that this is not a large 
amount. But the money is not the prime object of the asso- 
ciation. It is rather to keep alive the interest in the cause, 
and to maintain the list of friends to it. Now I think that 
if an association of such a kind, or similar to it, were esta- 
blished here, it would have a very good eflTect. The parti- 
culars I presume not to arrange. The day of meeting, the 
object for which a special fund should be raised, and other 
details, could be easily settled in committee. I simply throw 
out the hint ; and leave it to you to take it \ip, or not, as 
you think proper. Once more, I thank you heartily for all 
you have done for our cause, which may God prosper ! 

In the evening the students of S. Augustine's Col- 
lesfe were assembled in the hall to hear addresses from 


Archdeacon Mackenzie and from the Bishops of Chi- 
chester and Oxford. It was the last public occasion 
upon which Mackenzie spoke in England; I have no 
report of his speech ; but I remember that it was very 
practical and earnest, and seemed to me to carry great 
weight with it in consequence of the entire self-forget- 
fulness which characterized it. In the Colonial Church 
Chronicle I find it stated, that "Ai'chdeacon Mackenzie 
impressed on his hearers the absolute necessity of 
possessing a strong and living faith, upon which, he 
said, the whole of a man's usefulness depended. They 
must look entirely to God-given strength, if they would 
bear up against the obstacles that pressed upon them in 
their upward and onward course." 

From the hall the whole company adjouiTied to the 
chapel, where the proceedings of the day were brought 
to a close by Evening Prayer. It was a day which no 
one can forget ; it was memorable for its own sake, as 
exhibiting a great outburst of Christian life from the 
very heart of the Church of England; it would have 
been among the most pleasing of the reminiscences of 
Mackenzie's friends, had he been permitted to revisit 
this country and to talk over jDast times; as it is, we 
may still venture to put it amongst our pleasing though 
sad recollections, and to rejoice that we were permitted 
to take such a parting leave of one whom in this world 
we were not to see again. 

The day after the Canterbury farewell service I had 
the pleasure of travelling with Mackenzie to London. 
Several other intimate friends were of the party. He 
was happy and merry as ever ; he was more than calm 


and collected; lie gave lookers-on the impression that 
the sacrifice was nothing, and that there was nothing 
in the work to oppress his spirits. It would have been 
easy to make the party gi-ave and serious, but in his 
sunshiny presence it seemed impossible to be otherwise 
than joyous. 

In London we attended a meeting of the Committee 
at the house of the Society for the Propagation of the 
Gospel, and in the evening he started with his sister 
and a party of considerable magnitude, consisting chiefly 
of members of the mission, for Southampton. It was 
impossible not to feel that in all probability we had 
seen him for the last time on earth ; happily, it may be 
thought, the bustle and hurry of parting, and the neces- 
sity for attending to small matters of business, prevent 
the mind on such occasions from dwelling upon melan- 
choly forebodings. But what if we did not meet again? 
he had counted the cost : who could desire to hold him 
back ? 

Mr Hutt, his faithful friend and secretary, accom- 
panied him to Southampton. He has been kind enough 
to furnish me with the following notice of Mackenzie's 
last hours in England. 

" I will try and sketch as nearly as I can the pro- 
ceedings of the 3rd and 4th of October, 1860. It was 
on the 3rd that we all dined together in London. You 
saw me start with two cabs heavily laden with luggage. 
I was commissioned to take tickets for all the party, 
in order to have as little extra luggage as possible to 
pay for. Mackenzie came as the train was starting, 
and we only just scrambled into the carriages in time. 


Bacon's Railway Hotel was the place at which we 
lodged at Southampton. Mackenzie and I, at his parti- 
cular request, had a double-bedded room, as he thought 
I might help him. We sat up till three in the morn- 
ing: during most of the time after midnight he was 
letter-writing, or giving me directions for the settle- 
ment of various little matters which he had not had 
time to attend to. Three or four times he ceased for a 
few minutes from his work, and wondered when he 
should be in England again ; then, checking himself, he 
would say, " Well, I wish to place myself altogether in 
God's hands : He knows what is best for me, and I trust 
that what we call the worst will be but a summons to 
our lasting home." (I would say that Mackenzie seemed 
to have a kind of presentiment that he should never 
return to England. I remember that at Brighton, on 
October 1st, he came to my bedside at about seven 
in the morning, and asked me to go down to the beach, 
and bathe with him. I did not care to do so : when he 
said very earnestly. Do come : I shall jDrobably never 
ask you again, and you may feel sorry to have refused 
me my last request. He was so sad and earnest that I 
could not refrain from doing as he wished.) We were 
up by seven in the morning, and went to the docks to 
see the vessel and inquire about two puppies that had 
been sent from Scotland. Though he was very much 
pressed for time, he took pains to see that his dumb 
friends were made as comfortable as possible. Fanc}ang 
that they were hungry, he hunied back to the inn, pro- 
cured a large basin of bread and milk, and carried it in 
his owTi hands through the streets of Southampton, 


because a messenger was not at once obtainable. The 
whole party breakfasted together. From that time till 
going on board he was comforting the friends of those 
who were going with him. He asked me not to remain 
with him till the last, as he would like to have ' quiet 
thoughts with his own heart' when he was actually 
starting. I was so busily engaged in looking after lug- 
gage and paying fares and dock-charges, that I had not 
very much time for talking with dear Mackenzie, but 
there seemed to be an undercurrent of sadness, which 
at times almost carried him away from what he was 
endeavouring to do with his whole heart." 

The mission party which sailed with Bishop Mac- 
kenzie consisted of the following persons : the Rev. 
L. J. Procter ; the Rev. H. C. Scudamore ; IVIi- Horace 
Waller, the lay superintendent ; S. A. Gamble, a car- 
penter ; and Alfred Adams, an agricultural labourer. 
The sister, who accompanied him in his first voyage to 
Africa, was again his companion in this second and (as 
it proved) final voyage. 



The Cambrian steamer, which carried the mission party, 
left Plymouth for the Cape of Good Hope, on the 6th 
of October, and arrived after an uneventful voyage, on 
November 12. 

There is little to be said concerning the voyage. 
Public worship was celebrated on board every morning; 
and, in the evening, the mission party had family 
prayers ; on Sunday, two services with sermon ; and on 
one Sunday the Holy Communion was administered. 
The Missionaries employed themselves in studying the 
Sechuana language, not because they had much hope 
that this dialect would be intelligible in the valley c f 
the Shire, but because it appears to be more generally 
known than any other, and therefore almost certain to 
prove of utility in Southern Africa, either directly or 
indirectly. It has been called the French of South 
Africa. They did not however make much progress : 
their time was short, and their appliances imperfect, no 
dictionary, and no complete grammar ; still, with a Bible, 
and Concordance, they managed to learn something. 


Mackenzie also prepared himself for his future life by 
accustoming himself to take astronomical observations. 

It is unnecessary to say that the party was cordially 
received by the Bishop of Cape Town. The Bishop 
had most kindly arranged for receiving all, some at his 
own residence of Bishopscourt, and some at the Kafir 
College. Thus the Missionaries found one more quiet 
and peaceful resting-place, before their more active 
labours should commence. It was necessary to make a 
sojourn of some length ; arrangements were to be made 
for the consecration of Mackenzie as Bishop, and these 
arrangements involved the arrival at the Cape of at 
least two out of the Bishops of Graham's Town, Natal, 
and S. Helena ; and in fact, as will be seen, Mackenzie 
was not able to proceed on his voyage till the com- 
mencement of the following year. 

This delay was of course a source of grief to the 
missionary party ; they had, however, the great satis- 
faction of finding on their arrival at Cape Town that 
news had been received from Dr Livingstone, who had 
heard of the mission, and had undertaken to meet the 
Bishop and his party at the Kongone mouth of the 
Zambesi, and conduct them himself to the scene of 
their future labours. Moreover, the time spent at the 
Cape was not lost : they were able to consult more 
definitely than hitherto as to the details of their plans, 
and to take advice from the Bishop of Cape Town, and 
the Governor, Sir George Grey. One question, which 
the Missionaries discussed earnestly at this time, must 
be recorded, on account of its bearing upon some events 
which will be subsequently related. The question was 


asked, what should the Missionaries do, if they should 
find that the people amongst whom they should settle 
should after a time prove unfriendly ? Should they hold 
their position by force ? Should they defend themselves 
against attack? It was ajn'eed that it would not be 
their duty to hold forcible possession, that they were 
preachers of the Gospel of peace, and that if they found 
their position untenable, except by violence, it would 
be their duty to abandon it, and seek another. The 
reader is particularly requested to observe that a col- 
lision with the natives was contemplated from the first 
as a possible contingency, and that in case of such a 
misfortune a pacific retreat was agreed upon as the 
right course of conduct to be pursued. 

During the delay at the Cape, Mackenzie wrote a 
few letters, some of which I will here produce. The 
first is to his sister in Natal. 


BiSHOPSCOuiiT, Cape Town, 

Nov. 17, 1S60. 
Dear , 

I am very thankful for the very prosperous voyage 
with which our good Father has blessed us, pleasant and 
(I trust) not unprofitable. "We have been studying Sechuana, 
without previous knowledge, without dictionary, and almost 
without grammar. The sketch which Livingstone left be- 
hind him, and of which Murray the publisher sent me a 
copy as a present, thovigh it was not a published book, was 
not a gi'ammar. Our mainstay was Moffat's Bible and a 
Concordance. So that our knowledge is as imperfect as 

, and not nearly so full. Still we got through eight or 

ten verses of II Chronicles and forty-five of Psalm Ixxviii., 


leaving not many points unclarified, — unbotanized, — really 
it is very like botanizing tlie language. We must keep thi.-, 
up, though the value of it will be only like that of knowing 
French in Italy. I believe Sechuana is more generally 
understood by an individual here and there than any other 
dialect. Livingstone speaks of the " Kafir or Zulu family 
extending right up to the Zambesi. They are known there 
as Landeens or Landuns." He means up to the river along 
the coast. I do not expect however that they speak pure 
Zulu. Livingstone's letters are most hearty. He says for 
want of a better steamer he was compelled to go up the 
Shire. " Cautious reverence is required in ascribing human 
movements to the influences of Divine Providence : but hav- 
ing been prevented ascending to the Makololo country, and 
led very much against our will into a region we never con- 
templated exploring, and there found a field exactly suited 
for your mission, I really think that the prayerful move- 
ment of so many pious hearts at the Universities has had 
something to do with the direction of our steps." That is 
good : is it not ? 

The next letter is a long one, but I think of suffi- 
cient interest to claim a place here. It contains an 
account of a visit made by some of the mission party 
to a Moravian mission station. The account is in- 
teresting in itself, and may also be interesting to the 
reader, (doubtless it was regarded in this light by 
Mackenzie,) as an example of successful work, carried 
out upon the principle of combining the higher truths 
of Christian faith and worship with a systematic edu- 
cation of the African mind in the arts of civilized life. 



Gnadendal, Cape of Good Hope, 

December 5, Wednesday. 

I write a few lines in anticipation of the mail. This is 
a Moravian mission station, probably the most flourishing 
which they have in any part of the world. 

We left Cape Town on Monday morning and got here 
(eighty miles) yesterday afternoon. Our party was the Dean 
of Cape Town, Procter, Scudamore, Waller, myself, and Bell, 
the last a lad of 16, our fellow-passenger in the Canibrmn. 
For thirty-five miles we went over a flat sandy tract, leaving 
the wonderful view of Table Mountain behind us, and as we 
went about East we passed False Bay on our right. About 
thirty miles from Cape Town is Somerset, a village chiefly 
Dutch, where we dined. We were all, (seven, including the 
driver,) in a covered light cart, with three seats, one behind 
another, and all on two wheels, with four horses, which have 
come all the way, and are to take us back. We outspanned 
halfway to Somerset, and then stai*ted again about four p.m., 
first over a pass 900 or 1000 feet high, and then on rising 
and falling ground, till about nine at night. You may 
fancy how we tried the springs, and how often we came 
down bump upon the axletree, having compressed the springs 
as far as they could go. We started in first-rate spirits, and 
ended cheerful, but subdued. After supper and prayers we 
retired, two to a bed-room, four to shake-downs in the par- 
lour, but not all to rest. I slept well myself; but in the 
morning there was a joke against those who had been half- 
devoured, that they would require only half a breakfast. 
We started at 7.30 : earlier this time than the day before, 
when four of us had to come from Bishop's Court, six miles, 
before starting. We ofi'-saddled half way, and got here about 
three or four p. M. 

As you approach you pass some hundreds of acres of 
oats, &c., the produce of the labour of the people. Then the 




valley lies before you ; the hills become higher ; till at length 
the valley becomes a hloof, that is, quite a narrow space 
between high rocks. From this kloof, aided by two little 
valleys one on each side, flows the stream to which the 
place owes the goodness of its situation. The fresh gi-een 
foliage of countless trees and gi-een crops, which quite cover 
the ground, was most refreshing after the two days' drive 
through the dry burnt-up country we had passed. As we 
drove up the right-hand side of the valley we continued for 
more than a mile passing on our left the cultivated gardens 
of the people, which occupy the centre, and on our right 
houses, which improved in appearance as we approached the 
head of the valley, where are the church and school and the 
dwellings of the brethren. The doors in the first cottages 
we saw were made of reeds, kept together by three hori- 
zontal spars in front and as many behind, fastened at their 
ends to the hinge-posts; these were replaced half a mile 
further on by neatly made doors in cottages having well- 
finished windows and a framework stretching some five feet 
from the eaves, with festoons of vines, the clusters giving 
promise of good grapes in two or three months. When we 
got to the head place, we found before us a lofty building, 
large enough for 1000 persons, the church. 


_ -6 




The sketcli gives the different buildings ; the arrow- 
shewing where we alighted, and how we were facing 

1. The church. 

2. The dining-room. 

3. Room behind it. 

4. The kitchen. 

5. A set of dwellings for the brethren : each family has 
two or three rooms. 

6. The boys' and girls' school. 

7. The carpenter's shop. 

8. Wheel wi'ight. 

9. Blacksmith. 

10. Mill. 

1 1 . Training-school. 

12. Guest-house. 

This last consists of a large common-room, twenty-two 
feet square, with four bed-rooms. We were at once welcomed 
by the Warden, had coffee, and saw the workshops. In the 
carpenter's shop were three lads of 18, under the instruction 
of a paid coloured artizan, the whole being under the direc- 
tion of one of the brethren, of whom there are nine. In the 
blacksmith's shop, a tall man with two assistants was weld- 
ing the tire of a wheel. Thence we went to the garden, 
about an acre of ground, in beautifully clean order. They 
commonly grow three crops of potatoes in a year on the 
same ground, sometimes four. In the middle was a pear- 
tree, under which we heard some of the early history of the 

It was founded by George Schmidt in 1737. For seven 
years he worked, and then returned home to stir up greater 
interest in the mission. The Dutch Government refused him 
permission to return, having a jealousy of missions in 
general. It was not till 1792 that missionaries were 
allowed to come. Schmidt was then dead, but the three 
brethren who came found an old woman, now blind, who 
nevertheless treasured the Dutch New Testament, which 



Schmidt had given her, and which she had read till her 
sight failed her. I saw to-day that New Testament, kept in 
a wooden box, made of the wood of the old pear-tree which 
Schmidt planted, and which lived till 1836, (100 years,) 
when it was replaced by another, under which we stood. 
Thence we went to their burial ground, — graves marked 
No. 2367, and such numbers. They have now a population 
of 3000 coloured people, chiefly Hottentots : during two 
months lately they had sixty burials, chiefly children, owing 
to measles. There was an open gi-ave, and we learned that 
two childi-en were to be buried at sundown, and obtained 
permission to be present. Thence to the training school : 
nineteen lads, some from other mission stations. The school 
was not at woi-k : but we saw the printing press and some 
of its later productions : this has been here for a year only : 
we saw also the room in which the lads sleep, their dining- 
room, sitting-room, &c. I have omitted the mill and the 
tannery. The former is used not only for the brethren, and 
for the people of the valley, who bring sacks of wheat and 
receive a tally, the duplicate of which is put on the sack, 
paying so much for the grinding ; but also some of the 
farmers are glad to send several miles to have their wheat 
ground. In the tannery is used the bark not only of oak, — 
the quality is not so good as in England, — but also of mi- 
mosa and of a small plant called protea. They tan chiefly 

About sunset several of us went to the funeral. We 
entered the lofty church : in the middle of one long side, 
between the windows, is a kind of dais, with a principal 
seat in the middle : here sits the brother, who is to conduct 
the service, a table in front of him, and the brethren on each 
side. In the body of the building seats for the people, 
occupying the whole space, except the bases of two large 
pUlars, which help to support the roof A gallery runs 
round three sides : an organ was played by a Kafir boy. 
First they sang a hymn, all sitting : it was in Dutch, so 


I could not undei'stand it : but the sight of sixty or seventy- 
natives, joining in the singing, — the thought that here in 
the time of their deep distress they were being brought to 
the source of all comfort, and that we (please God) were 
going soon to preach the same glad tidings to the poor 
natives of the Shire valleys, — brought tears to my eyes. 
The addi-ess was on the 21st or 22nd chapter of Revelation : 
the name of the Lamb coming often in the reading of it, 
and the name of Jesus oftener in the exposition. It was 
the Warden who officiated, — a simple, earnest man. Then 
a hymn : then they all rose, formed a semicircle in the couit, 
with the minister at the apex, the men and women at the 
two sides, the two little coffins, each on its own bier, at the 
centre, touching the wall. Again they sang: this time only 
four lines : and then proceeded to the grave-yard. We went 
another way. They laid the coffins on the ground beside 
tlie graves, the minister standing on the western side of the 
graveyard, the people standing upon the path which sur- 
rounded it, the whole space within being thickly covered 
with mounds. Again a service, with responses from the 
congregation, and during the latter of two verses of a hymn 
the coffins were lowered, one after the other, by the lads 
from the training-school, who had been the bearers. After 
the service the mothers came near : one, taking a spade, 
threw three or four spadefulls which fell heavily on the 
coffin ; then the other did the same. We came away, and 
I had hardly firmness to speak to Scudamore, as we passed 
through the old churchyard, of the joy of leading men and 
women in life and death to Him ! We soon had supper, and 
were glad immediately after to go to bed. 

It is their custom to meet in their common-room about 
5.30, for short family prayers and a cup of coffi^e before 
church at 5.45. This morning, my watch being a quarter 
slower than their time, and having slept soundly till I was 
awakened, I was too late for their family prayers ; but we 
joined them at church. None of the sisters were present, 


and not all the brethren : about sixty or seventy people. 
It is harvest time, and many are out at work for the far- 

We returned to the guest-house till eight, when we were 
to be summoned to breakfast : I fell asleep again. This 
principle of the guest-house pleased me much. We are here 
not wasting their time when they are busy. They can 
devote as much time as they please to entertaining us, and 
they have not allowed us to feel solitary. 

After breakfast we saw the retail Shop, which sells about 
X800 worth of goods per annum, the Dispensary, and the 
working of the Training School. This is supported by a 
separate foundation, some German Prince having about 
twenty-five years ago given money for the purpose, with the 
condition that they should always take at least five boys 
from other stations besides their own. The whole costs the 
Moravian funds nothing. Excellent and wonderful answers 
in Scripture and Geography were given. Some of them 
played on the piano well : on the violin, not so well. They 
sang some songs — such as " Rule Britannia," which they un- 

After this we climbed a shoulder of the hill to look at 
the village from above. There are about 400 acres culti- 
vated as gardens, irrigated on a regular system, each man 
having the water for a certain time during the week. The 
general view of the village was very pretty : below us the 
long row of houses, each with its garden beyond it, with 
neatly arranged beds of mealies, beans, wheat, oats, or po- 
tatoes : the hedgerows of quince, or roses, and a great num- 
ber of fruit-trees, which only needed to be in bloom to com- 
plete the picture of rich abundance. Descending the hill, 
we went into one or two of the houses : in one was a tailor, 
busy with a waistcoat for one of his neighbours : of course 
he was paid for his work, and the brother who was with us 
pointed to his own waistcoat and lower garments as speci- 
mens of this man's skill. In another house we found three 


women, one baking in the huge Dutch oven"; the produce to 
be divided between herself and the owner of the house. In 
another was a girl of ten on a sofa, having an attack of fever. 
The floors were all of clay. The ceilings were of strong 
reeds laid above the beams ; over these a layer of clay, two or 
three inches thick, which formed the floor of a granary and 
store-room in the roof. Each bouse had two or three rooms : 
the sitting-room about ten feet square, and the walls about 
nine feet high. 

The dinner, at 12, was a substantial meal: soup, small 
joints and roulettes of minced meat, with potatoes and beans, 
stewed preserved apples and peaches, a roly-poly pudding, 
good brownish bread, with water or a glass or two of local 
wine. It was a long table, for we were ourselves an addi- 
tion of six pei-sons, besides Mr , the botanical professor 

in Cape Town, to their regular party of fourteen. They 
usually arrange themselves so that husband and wife shall 
sit together; while we were there, the chief brethren sat 
with us at the upper end, leaving the other almost exclu- 
sively for the ladies. The wives take it in turns to superin- 
tend the kitchen department. 

But the most striking part of the arrangement was the 
grace. As at the Umlazi, where I so liked to join in the 
chanted Kafir grace, so here, at dinner and supper they 
began and ended by singing a grace. The Warden, who 
took the top of the table, and on whose left hand I always 
found myself, started the air, which was immediately taken 
up by the women, but almost overpowered by the deep bass 
notes of all the men. I am sorry I forgot to ask for the 
words and meaning of these acts of thanksgiving. I should 
have liked to have joined with them, and to have remem- 
bered them afterwards. After dinner most of us returned 
to the guest-house, and I began this letter to you. It re- 
ceived some additions this morning (Friday, December 7) at 
Somerset, on our way home, and is now being finished at 
Bishop's Coui't. 


After tea, to wMch we were summoned at 4 by the 
bell, we again strolled out to see tbe irrigation of some of 
the gardens, and the condition of one or two of the best of 
them. I do not know whether the gi'ound was originally 
chosen with a view to the irrigation, but cei*tainly the water 
may be said to be the life of the place. I made further 
acquaintance with it by bathing in a shaded pool, much to 
my comfort and refreshment, before Church, for which the 
bell rang about sundown. There were about the same 
number as before of the coloured people, with one or two of 
the brethren, and our whole party, but none of the sisters. 
I was disappointed in not seeing them more anxious to join 
in worship. The service consists chiefly of singing and read- 
ing. This evening the 22nd chapter of Genesis was the 
subject, and a longish discourse was founded upon it, lasting 
15 or 20 minutes. The music was touching: there was a 
short prayer before the dismissal. 

I had thought once or twice, during our short stay at 
this Mission, whether it would be worth while for us to get 
one or two of their trained lads to join our mission to the 
Shire. I spoke to the Warden, asking whether if I wished 
it, it would be likely to be possible. He did not encourage 
the idea, saying he did not know whether the boys would 
like it : some of them were being educated for other Chris- 
tian bodies, and in fact of those who were now being taught 
trades none were eligible. 

By this time it was time for supper, 8 o'clock : after this 
we parted for the night. I received, besides two specimens 
of their printing, a copy of the rules of the institution, a 
lithogi-aph of the view of the valley from the hill, and a 
photogi-aph of the 19 boys in the training school: besides 
which I bought a knife and fork, the handles of which were 
made from the wood of the old pear-tree. We were to start 
next moi-ning by 6, and were ready by 6.30. By this time 
the brethren had come from Church, and their earnest part- 
ing words of " God bless you, give you a good joui-ney," will 


live with us, I trust. I believe they were in earnest, when 
they said that our visit had been a pleasure to them. 

On the whole this has been a most eujoyable visit, and 
we have seen and heard many things which will be useful. 
I found myself two or three times thinking of Gnadendal 
as a realization of the Happy Yalley : not that I forgot that 
there was still much of contact with the outer world, and 
also much sin and unhappiness in the midst of them : but 
when one compared their present state with their state in 
heathenism and barbarism, one could not help blessing God, 
and praying that we might be allowed to reclaim some of 
the wandering sheep fiu'ther north, and give them the 
blessings of order and holiness. Certainly much is done at 
wonderfully Kttle expense. The brethren are sent out from 
Europe, but receive nothing from home for their mainten- 
ance. Gnadendal is not only self-supporting, but contri- 
butes to the support of the younger and less flourishing 
missions of South Africa : so that as a body they are self- 
supporting. This is brought about by the profits on the 
workshops and the retail shop. In the former, pupils and 
hired men of colour work under the superintendence of the 
white men, thus learning the trade and at the same time 
bringing revenue to the Institution. Then work is done 
for the inhabitants of the valley, and for the Dutch farmers 
in the neighbourhood ; and their work is so good that I 
am told pruning-knives have been made in Birmingham, 
with the Gnadendal stamp to secure them a better sale 
among the farmers. In the retail shop there is of course a 
profit, which may come to something on sales to the amount 
of £800 a-year. Then there is the doctor, who on suitable 
occasions charges for his drugs, and the fees which the far- 
mers pay for his visits go to the general fund. This is ex- 
actly the scheme I had in my mind for our work : every 
workman a soui'ce of revenue. Again, the economy is con- 
siderable. The expense of supplying the table is at £iO 
a-year for each couple, (putting with each a proportion of 


the children;) so that, including everything, even the £1 
a-year which each couple receives in cash, the cost is about 
£90, and this in a country in which a clergyman and his 
wife find it hard to get on with less than £250. The differ- 
ence is perhaps partly due to the simplicity of their man- 
ners, but partly to their living in common, as well as to the 
excellent domestic economy of the sisters. I hope we fchall 
find an estimate of £100 a-year for each European to be 
over the mark. The main secret of the success of these men, 
I think, is that they are well chosen for their work, and that 
their heart is in it. They have no visions of returning home, 
no dreams of rising to something higher. I believe it may 
be truly said that their aim is to promote the glory of God, 
and to advance the happiness and good of their fellowmen. 
May we go and do likewise ! 

I give one more letter wiitten at this period. It 
is to a very dear friend in Cambridge. It is a good 
specimen of the warmth of Mackenzie's feelings, and 
at the same time shews with how much pleasure to 
himself he could have resumed a life, which he had 
thought right to abandon for the sake of Christ and 
His Gospel. 


Bishop's Coubt, Cape Town, 

Dec. 12, i85o. 
My dear , 

Though we are so far pax-ted, and are likely to be 
so long, this seems to me only to bring you the closer to me 
in my heart, and in my longing desire for yoiir happiness 
and highest good. And first, I may pray for you, as I do, 
that God our Father would keep you in His safe protection 
and guide you. But I am also anxious you should get into 
some really useful and directly ministerial work : the more 
I think of it, the more I think College is not the place for you, 


and though the College and University have a claim on their 
sons, yet not to the injury or real loss of the persons themselves. 
* * * It is one of the hardest places to be a clergyman 
in. Elsewhere people expect you to be a clergyman ; the 
influence of the atmosphere around you helps to brace you 
up. In Cambridge there are many clergy who don't care to 
live as such, and this has lowered the standard of public 

opinion. would say, they ought not to be obliged to 

take orders. Well, that is not the question now : you will ask 
gently, "but Mackenzie, is that a reasonfor my running away 1 " 
I think in yotxr case it is. I do really and honestly think you 
want covintry work, parish work, the work of feeding yourself 
and the flock which the Great Shepherd through the agency 
of His Church shall commit to you, with the food you will 
draw practically from the Bible. I know what it is to pa^s 
from Cambridge to actual ministerial duty, engaging undi- 
vided attention. I like mathematics; I liked teaching; and 
yet I felt the change like a breathing of fresh aii-, like work- 
ing at a thing my heart was engaged upon ; I am still fond 
of mathematics, (I came across Childer's Caustics of Reflexion 
and Ray Surfaces, and worked out some of the propositions 
yesterday, for ten minutes before dinner,) but my real best 
self is wrapped up in the hope of rescuing some of God's 
•wandering sheep, with souls to rejoice in Him and glorify 
Him, from the darkness and the sin in which they now are. 
And I want you to be actively and simply and humbly 
working in the same sort of way, not only because it is so 
blessed, but because I do really think it would be good for 
you, and wovild be the way to make you see clearly and 
rejoice in the light of God's countenance. Please think 
carefully of this, and God guide you aright. 

Did you ever think of this easy problem ? " Compare 
the spaces described by two jDoints on the rims of the fore 
and hind wheels of a carriage, running on a road such a 


distance that tlie points start together from the ground, and 
arrive together on the ground." The spaces are evidently 

"What is the locus of the foci of reflected pencils of 
light, the incident pencils being small parallel pencils, and 
falling in any direction on a reflecting curve?" (I mean all 
in one plane). Answer: A cii'cle touching the reflecting 
curve, and passing through its principal focus. (How wretch- 
edly confused I am in expressing these things !) 

Again : " The shaft by which rotatory motion is carried 
from an engine of given horse-power to the work to be 
done, must be made stronger, in inverse proportion to its 
rate of revolution." Prove this. Answer: The strain on 
such a shaft depends on the couple (of forces) exerted upon 
it at one eild, and which it exerts upon the machinery 
driven at its other end. That is to say, supposing it moved 
by a wheel of given radius, the strain is proportional to the 
force exerted tangentially on such wheel. But horse-power 
is proportional to such force multiplied by speed of such cir- 
cumference : therefore the strain is inversely proportional to 
the number of revolutions per minute. The result is, that if 
rotatory motion is to be conveyed from one place to another, 
the final wheels revolving more rapidly than the engine crank, 
it ^dll require a stronger shaft to convey it, if the speed be 
obtained by multiplying wheels after the shaft, than if it be 
multiplied first and the transmitted motion be of great ra- 

You will say, how do your own affairs prosper? You 

must ask , If he does not hear from me by this mail, 

don't tell him that you have — but he will hear from others. 
Good bye, my dear fellow, 

Yours afiectionately, 

C. F. M. 

One circumstance of a singularly interesting kind, 
and of great importance in its bearings on the sub- 


sequent action of the missionaries, occurred during 
Mackenzie's residence at the Cape. A coloured con- 
gregation existed in Cape Town, under the charge of 
an EngUsh clergyman, Mr Lightfoot : the congregation 
consisted of liberated slaves, persons who had been 
captured by British cruisers from slave vessels, on the 
Eastern coast of Africa, and set free at Cape Town. 
Many of these liberated slaves had been resident in the 
Cape colony for a long period, and had acquired the 
English langTiage, while at the same time intercourse 
with each other had prevented them from losing their 
own. Mackenzie was very desirous of obtaining the 
aid of some native converts as guides and interpreters 
to the mission, and this coloured congregation at the 
Cape appeared to afford him the means of doing so. 
Accordingly, he was invited to preach one Sunday 
evening to these black people : he did so, and after 
explaining his plans, he asked how many of those 
present were willing to volunteer to accompany him 
and help him in the work which he was undertaking 
for their countrymen. Not less than twelve stood up ; 
and it was encouraging to find that out of those twelve, 
six had been already mentioned by Mr Lightfoot to 
the Bishop of Cape Town as amongst the most suitable 
men in his opinion to join and assist the mission. 
Several of these volunteers did in fact give themselves 
to the work, and we shall find in the sequel, that 
they were of incalculable service. " I do think," said 
Mackenzie, in a speech which he made at a large meet- 
ing held at Cape Town, "that it is most encouraging 
to see men, natives of the far interior of the continent, 


liberated slaves, coming forward as they have done, 
ready to devote their energy and their peculiar qualifi- 
cations, to the work we have in hand." 

The meeting, which has just been mentioned, de- 
mands a little further notice. Nothing could exceed 
the interest taken in the Central African Mission by the 
inhabitants of Cape Town. It was in truth a most 
interesting occasion; Cape Town was about to be the 
scene of the first consecration of a strictly missionary 
Bishop of the Church of England ; the people of the 
Cape perceived that they had a special and honourable 
share in the work ; and as occup3dng the chief home of 
Christianity in South Africa, and being therefore the 
chief witnesses for Christ in that dark continent, they 
could not but feel that the missionaries might receive 
God speed upon their work with great propriety from 

Accordingly, a large meeting was held, at which 
the Governor, Sir George Grey, took the chair, and the 
Bishop of Cape Town was present ; the room was 
crowded to overflowing. The proceedings were of a 
most hearty kind, and only saddened by the news 
which had just arrived of the death of the missionaries 
of the London Missionary Society^. Mackenzie's speech 

^ Mr R. Moffat, the South African Missionary, wrote to Sir George 
Grey, under date Kuruman, Nov. 12: "Three hunters, sons of an old 
man named Aaron, of this place, have arrived with the melancholy 
news that the members of the Makololo mission have nearly all perished. 
The Aarons arrived at the Great Waterfall on the i8th of July, and 
crossed to the opposite bank. Here they ascertained that Mr Helmore, 
his devoted ■^•ife, their two children, and the infant of the Rev. Roger 
Price, had successively fallen victims to the fever ; also three native 


was a plain and simple statement of the history of the 
mission, and of the plans of himself and his brother 
missionaries. A few sentences will shew what his views 
at that time were. He said, " I suppose that we shall 
in about two months have arrived at the mouth of the 
Zambesi, and that we shall there meet Dr Livingstone, 
who, according to accounts dated Aug. 8, was at the 
Victoria Falls, but who promises to be at the mouth of 
the Zambesi by the end of the year, to meet the 
steamer Pioneer, the use of which has been given him 
by the Government. This vessel, as he himself .has 
told us, is entirely at our service. I hope we shall not 
trespass too much on his kindness, but I am very 
thankful for the offer, as it will convey us through the 
malarious district at the mouth of the river, for sixty 
or seventy miles, to the valley of the Shire, whither 
we at present believe our work will lead us. I use this 
vague phrase at present believe, because we are unable 
to fix with exactness the spot where we shall com- 
mence ; we intend to leave it to Dr Livingstone's advice. 
When we get there our first object will be to establish 
ourselves in a proper manner in the eyes of the natives, 
and for that purpose we have determined carefully 
to carry out our undertaking in such a manner as 
every Christian would desire to see it carried out, and 
so as not to lead the natives to suppose that we are 
mere adventurers or mere commercial men, far less 
slave-dealers, but a body of Christian men, professing 
a religion which we come not only to teach them, but 

servants ; and that in the preceding moon Sekeletu had insisted on Mr 
and Mrs Price leaving, or they too would go." 


to practise ourselves. With this view, we have provided 
ourselves with a large church-tent, well furnished and 
appointed, through the kindness of friends in England. 
In this tent we hope, morning and evening, to join in 
prayer with the churches of other lands, with your 
own cathedral service here, and thi'oughout the world. 
In the next place, we shall engage in such occupations 
as may strike the natives as useful, and may be likely 
to draw them to join us. I am not speaking now of 
the rehgious teaching of the natives, because we may 
be told, that these natives have a language which we 
cannot speak, and that we can do hardly anything 
in the way of teaching them the Christian religion. 
We shall however teach a gi'eat deal that is preparatory ; 
and therefore, in our garden-work, in our building, in 
our carpentering, in all our industrial occupations, we 
shall endeavour to instruct some natives to work under 
us, not only to swell our own number of hands, but in 
order that they may learn how such things are done ; 
we shall accustom them to the use of tools, and so 
endeavour to acquire an influence over them, leading 
them to see how a civilized nation like England pro- 
duces those marvellous works, which the natives look 
upon with so much surprise." 

With regard to the loss of the London Society's 
missionaries, he spoke with his usual simplicity, but 
in language which must have made a deep impression 
upon those who heard it, as coming from one who was 
not only making a speech, but also about to put his 
words of courage to the test of practice. " I would 
next refer," said he, " to something which has been 


already alluded to-day : I mean the sad destruction 
of life and the loss of Christian energy and zeal in the 
persons of those, who have been lately cut off in the 
interior of the country. It has been said, that we 
who are going are not to be daunted by that. No : 
rather should it be the opposite. Rather should we 
go up now with a more firm determination and in- 
tention, God helping us, of carrying on the work. We 
did think that we w^ere going to the valley of the 
Zambesi, to carry on our own work in our own place, 
and that others would work higher up the stream, and 
that thus, at different points, Christ's name would be 
preached. We hear now that that mission has been 
destroyed, for the present at least. Must we not there- 
fore work the more earnestly ? Ought we not to go 
up more determinedly, humbly but faithfully trusting 
in God's strength to help us, that we may be enabled 
to work in His Vineyard, to carry His Name boldly 
and faithfully before the people of that land, and to 
bring in some at least, who, in the event of our de- 
struction, our earlier or later death, may be ready to 
take our places, and carry forward the sound of the 
Gospel into the regions round about ? * * "- Thus 
it may be, that in the course of years we may become, 
what I have sometimes thought we were like, the 
original and early sprouts that rise from the seed in 
the ground, and which serve but to give life and vigour 
and energy to the shoots which rise above the ground 
afterwards. * * * That is the prospect we have 
before us ; a prospect which does not depend upon 
our life or death, which does not depend upon our 



successes during our lifetime, but depends entirely upon 
the grace of God; a prospect which will undoubtedly 
be realised in God's good time, for we know that ' the 
knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the 
waters cover the sea ;' and therefore it is a prospect to 
which we may confidently look forward, trusting and 
believing that God's work will prosper, and that His 
Name and saving grace will be known among all na- 

The spirit, which expressed itself in such words as 
those just quoted, made Mackenzie impatient of the 
delay caused by the necessity of waiting at the Cape 
for consecration. His impatience was increased by the 
arrival of the Pioneer, which called at the Cape on its 
way to the Zambesi and Dr Livingstone. It seemed 
impossible to allow the opportunity to be lost, and yet 
it was impossible for Mackenzie himself to take a pas- 
sage in the Pioneer. His doubts as to the best course 
of action are thus expressed in a letter to his sister at 



Dec. 12, i860. 

Deak , 

* * * « • 

The Pioneer, Livingstone's river steamer, has come out, 
casting anchor last week. She will probably leave again 
this day week or so. I don't know what I would not give to 
go in her, or rather in the steamer that will accompany her; 
but I do not see a chance of this. I am just hesitating 
whether to send my tail or a part of it, before I go myself; 
but it feels so awkward to back into a country, stern fore- 
most, as it were; and I am not clear that I could (ia my 


ignorance of so much that is there) give them any instruc- 
tions that wouhl be satisfactory. I shall probably have 
settled tliis point before the Waldensian leaves again. 

The doubt was at length resolved in favour of send- 
ing a portion of the missionary party in advance by 
the Pioneer, or rather by H.M.S. Sidon, which accom- 
panied it. Accordingly, Mr Scudamore and Mr Waller 
were thus sent in advance, the consecration being still 
delayed by the necessity of awaiting the arrival of the 
Bishops, who were to take part with the Metropolitan 
in the service. At length, on January 1, 18G1, the 
Feast of the Circumcision, all was ready for the con- 
secration. The Bishops of Natal and S. Helena had 
arrived; the Bishop of Graham's Town unfortunately 
lost his passage by the steamer, and so was unable to 
be present. 

As the consecration of the first Missionary Bishop 
of the Church of England in modern times is an event 
of great historical value, beyond the interest attaching 
to it as having taken place in the person of Bishop 
Mackenzie, I shall give the account of the ceremony at 
some length, quoting from a report furnished by an 
eye-witness ^ 

Although the first two or three days of the new year 
are exclusively devoted to holiday-making, all business being 
suspended, and the panting inhabitants of Table Valley 
being only too glad to escape from the boiling heat and dust 
to breathe the pure fresh air of the country, still the great 
interest taken in the forthcoming ceremony attracted a large 

1 The account is taken from a letter of the correspondent of the 
Guardian newspaper. 



congregation to the cathedral. At half-past ten the bells of 
the Cathedral chimed out merrily, S. George's being the only 
church in the colony possessing a peal, which, though imperfect, 
are sufficient to remind one of home. The regular attendants 
at the cathedral were admitted by the south door, and at a 
quarter to eleven the great dooi-s were thrown open at the 
western porch, and the church was soon filled. The order 
of ceremony observed followed as closely as possible that of 
the use of Westminster Abbey. The Dean, Canons, and 
Clergy met the Metropolitan and his assistants in the vestry 
at the right of the vestibule at the western entrance; the 
choristers and gentlemen of the choir in the baptistery on 
the opposite side. The procession formed in the following 
order, and proceeded up the church to the chancel : — ■ 

A Verger. 

The Choristers in surplices. 

Gentlemen of the Choir. 

Eighteen Parochial Clergy of Cape Town and neighbourhood. . 

Canons and Cathedral Clergy. 

A Verger. 

The Very Rev. the Dean of Cape Town. 

The Registrar of the Diocese. 

The Venerable C. F. Mackenzie, Bishop-elect, and Chaplain. 

Bishop of Natal. Bishop of S. Helena. 

The Metropolitan's Verger, bearing mitre-staff. 

Rev. Albert Wood, bearing the crozier. 

The Right Rev. the Metropolitan Bishop. 

His Lordship's Chaplain, the Rev. E. Glover, bearing the pastoral staff. 

Arrived at the chancel the procession opened right and 
left. The Metropolitan proceeded to his throne on the north 
side ; the Bishops of S. Helena and Natal to seats on the other 
side. The Dean, Canons, Precentor, and Bishop's chaplain 
also passed into their respective seats, and the other cathe- 
dral clergy to their stalls ; the parochial clergy to the daily 
service chapel on the southside of the altar behind the par- 
close, the Bishop-elect, vested in surplice, kneeling at a fald- 
stool at the entrance of the chancel. 


The voluntary being finished, a hymn was given out, 
during the singing of which the Metropolitan moved to his 
place at the altar, and the Bishops of Natal and S. Helena 
to their places, north and south, as Epistoler and Gospeller. 

The Nicene Creed ended, the Dean was conducted to the 
pulpit, and preached from Ephesians ii. 19 — 22. 

After the sermon the Dean returned to his place ; and 
whilst the hymn, " Christ is made the sure Foundation," 
was being sung, the Bishop-designate retired to the vestry, 
where he put on his rochet. Returning down the central 
passage, he was met at the chancel-steps by the assistant 
Bishops ; who, taking him by the hand, led him towards 
the Metropolitan. The following words were then spoken by 
the Bishop of Natal : — 

Right Reverend Father in G-od, we present unto you this godly and 
well-learned man to be ordained and consecrated Bishop. 

The rubric demanding the Queen's mandate, was, of 
course, not observed. The word charge was substituted for 
diocese. The oath of supremacy was administered by the 
Begistrai', and then the oath following by the Metropoli- 
tan : — 

The Oath of Ohedknce to the Metropolitan Bishop. 

In the name of God, Amen. I, Charles Frederick Mackenzie, chosen 
Bishop of the Mission to the tribes dwelling in the neighbourhood of 
the Lake Nyassa and River Shire, do profess and promise all due re- 
verence and obedience to the Metropolitan Bishop and Metropolitical 
Church of Cape Town, and to their successors. So help me God, through 
Jesus Christ. 

After the in^dtation to prayer, the Metropolitan knelt 
down at his seat, ^vith the Precentor on his right hand, 
Chaplain on his left, the Bishop-elect and Bishops-assistant 
a few seats lower. The Litany was then sung ; after which, 
the interrogations having being put, the Bishop-elect was con- 
ducted as before to the vestry, where he assumed the custo- 
maiy Episcopal vestments. During his absence, the anthem, 
"O, jjray for the peace of Jerusalem," was sung; and on 


his return, -whilst he knelt at the feet of the Metropolitan, 
Palestrina's Yeni Creator Spiritus. The imposition of hands 
followed, in which the three Bishops joined. A lai-ge and 
beautifully-bound copy of the Holy Scriptures was then pre- 
sented by the Metropolitan, which the new Bishop delivered 
to the care of his chaplain ; he was then conducted to his 
Beat next that of the junior Suffragan. 

The Offertory was then collected. The clergy from the 
stalls and from the south chapel came forward and made 
their offerings, and remained at the altar-rails till they 
had communicated. The Dean received the alms, and 
brought the elements of bread and wine to the Metropolitan. 
The four Bishops administered the Communion. About 100 
of the laity remained and communicated. The service con- 
cluded, the Dean, preceded by the vergers, conducted the 
Meti'opolitan, and the rest, to the vestry, the procession 
following, in reverse order to that in which it entered the 

Thus concluded one of the most memorable services ever 
celebrated in South Afric.i. Thus ended the consecration of 
the first Missionary Bishop of England's Church since the 
Keformation. Let us hope it will be but the beginning of 
great and glorious things, that this little one may become a 
thousand, till, in the words of the Bishop of Natal, a " chain 
of Bishops, missionary and colonial, may extend from Cape 
Point to the Abyssinian Church in Northern Africa." 

On the day after his consecration Bishop Mackenzie 
wrote as follows to a brother at home : 


January i, Wednesday. 
My dear Brother , 

1 think I am right in saying that on taking my 
degree, or on getting my fellowship, or on both occasions, 
I wrote first to you. Anyhow, I will write to you first this 


time, to tell yovi from myself tliat yesterday in S. George' .s, 
the Cathedral of Cape Town, the Metropolitan, with the 
Bishops of Natal and S. Helena, laid their hands on my 
head, and made me a Bishop of the Church, to lead a Mis- 
sion to Nyassa and the Shire. I am very thankful that 
this has ended as we all hoped. I have said several times, 
that if I was to go at the head of this mission, as it was in 
any case the work of a Bishop, I ought not to be sent with- 
out the authority, and still more the grace of God, given in 
consecration. Besides this, I feel strongly that it is the 
right course, and that, whether there be any marked success 
in this mission or not, on the whole, we may hope for more 
rapid, sound, and united progress. 

Some of my party, Waller, Scudamore, Adams, Gamble, 
and three blacks, including Lorenzo Johnson, the cook, 
started yesterday from Simon's Bay: at least, our latest 
news was that the vessel was getting up steam at seven A.M., 
when the mail left, and that mail brought us no letter from 
them : so I conclude, and shall jirobably hear to-day for 
certain, that they are off. It is a pity, after being delayed 
so long that they should not have stayed one day longer : 
they might then have been present at the consecration : and 
I, with Procter and the other two black men, might have 
gone with them. But I would not delay for an hour, by 
any request of mine, the vessel which was taking up the 
Pioneer to Livingstone. 

On the seventli of January a large meeting vt^as 
held in Cape Town, for the pui-pose of taking public 
leave of the missionary party, who shortly after went 
down to Simon's Bay to join H.M.S. Lyra, which was 
waiting to take back the Bishop of Natal to his diocese, 
and to convey Bishop Mackenzie, with the remainder 
of his party, to the scene of their future labours. At 


the farewell meeting the Bishops of Natal and of 
S. Helena spoke of the work which was being carried on 
in their respective dioceses. Bishop Mackenzie also 
spoke, and concluded his speech as follows : " And so 
it is that we have confidence to go forth on this mission, 
a small body indeed amongst the mass of heathenism, 
but trusting for God's blessing on what we do, on the 
work to be done in some measure through our agency, 
and in a still greater measure through the agency of 
native converts ; so that by degi*ees the truth may be 
received among the nations of the interior, and may 
widely and more widely extend hereafter. Let us 
pray for God's blessing on this and all such works, 
not for success for our own honour and glory, for that 
is of no matter, but for the honour and glory of our 
Heavenly Father, for the honour and glory of His 
Son, who came into the world to redeem the heathen, 
to purchase for Himself an inheritance, and for the 
sake of those whom He so purchased, that they may 
have the blessing of God in His infinite mercy given to 
them, that they may lead Christian lives, may die 
Christian deaths, and may so be ushered into the pre- 
sence of the Eternal King above." 

No words can better express the spirit in which 
Bishop Mackenzie left the Cape of Good Hope, and 
which indeed breathed throus^h his whole hfe. 


Bishop Mackenzie is now nearing the scene of his 
labours. He will have but one more halt, namely, at 
his old home. Natal, and then he will enter upon that 
field in which he was appointed to labour for so short 
a time. The mission party were on board H.M.S. Lyra 
on the morning of January 8, in Simon's Bay, but the 
ship was compelled by the South-East wind to wait 
till January 12, before she could get out. The party 
consisted of Bishop Mackenzie, the Rev. L. J. Procter, 
and three black men. Of these, one will especially come 
before our notice hereafter, Charles Thomas, of whom 
the Bishop says in one of his letters, " Charles Thomas 
was one of the pillars of Lightfoot's native congi'egation 
at Cape Town. It is twenty years since he came to 
the Cape. He was in the house of a Captain and 
Mrs Thomas, and owes to his mistress (or adopted 
mother, for he was quite a lad) his first knowledge and 
feelings of a religious kind. He is an active, intelligent 
man, speaking English well, and some dialects of 
Makoa, his native tongue, fluently." These black men 


left their wives at Cape Town, to follow^ them with the 
next mission party. In addition to the missionaries 
for the Zambesi, the Lyra also carried back to his own 
diocese the Bishop of Natal. 

The voyage to Natal was made as pleasant as might 
be by the extreme kindness of Captain Oldfield, who 
made arrangements for receiving into his own cabin 
the two Bishops and Mr Procter. On Sunday, January 
13, divine service was performed on deck ; Bishop 
Mackenzie read prayers, and the Bishop of Natal 
preached ; one of the sailors said he would walk twenty 
miles to hear him again. With reference to this 
voyage. Bishop Mackenzie writes in one of his letters 
as follows: 


H. M. S. Lyra S. Lat. if 48'. 
E. Long. 36° 36'. 

Feb. 4, Monday. 

Dear , 

My memory will not serve me as to whether I 
have written to you since I left England : but in any case 
I am glad to be obliged to take up my pen, and say a few- 
words to you, before leaving this the first man-of-war to 
which I was ever indebted for a passage. The Bishop of 
Natal, who came from Cape Town with us, agreed with me 
that we had seen a specimen of discipline, and of regular 
activity, and constancy of employment, which we ought not 
to forget. I spoke of being obliged to take up my pen to 
you, and part of the obligation consists in this, that I must 
ask you and any friends of the mission, in the event of their 
having any opportunity of being civil to Captain Oldfield of 
this vessel, to do so, on account of his great kindness and 
consideration for us on board. He has not only made this 
by far the most comfortable passage across the seas that I 


have made, and that at considerable inconvenience to him- 
self, — taking three persons into his own cabin, &c., — but has 
also offered to provide us with anything we want, or to let 
his men make anything for us, I am glad to say we are so 
well provided, that we have not been obliged to avail our- 
selves of his offer, to the extent at least that he intended 
and wished : but the kindness and interest he has shewn 
are the same. 

We are having beautiful weather, and have had ever 
since we left Plymouth, with the exception of one night of 
wind, two or three days after leaving the Cape. I am thank- 
ful for this, on account of others as much as or more than 

The visit to Natal could scarcely fail to be one of 
great interest. Natal liad been certainly the scene of 
the most painful days of Mackenzie's life, perhaps also 
the scene of the happiest. Many would welcome him 
there with great joy, and even those who had for- 
merly been regarded as his adversaries had probably 
been brought by this time to appreciate the real no- 
bility of his character, and to grieve that they had 
ever been found to oppose him. There is every reason 
to believe that the visit did in fact heal old wounds, 
and strengthen the bands of Christian charity. But, 
however this might be, the visit to Natal gave the 
Bishop the opportunity of seeing and consulting with 
the sister, whom he used playfully to call his hlach 
sister, from her love to the black people and success- 
ful work amongst them, and upon whose cooperation 
he now reckoned in his more distant mission. It may 
be well to explain here that this cooperation was not 


only reckoned upon by the Bishop, but intended by 
his sister at this time ; subsequently, however, her own 
marriage with the Archdeacon of Maritzburg disturbed 
the arrangements, and compelled her to continue her 
useful missionary work amongst the Zulus of Natal. 
I shall give the reader an account of the Bishop's visit 
to his old country, as I find it in a very interesting 
home-letter, written by this sister. 

•Jan. 23, Wednesday. On Monday morning we were at 
the Point by 7 o'clock, and found them more than doubtful 
about going out, at any rate not till 9. * * * At last 
another message came from the flags at the ship that if they 
would not go out, the captain would come ashore in his 
boat; so orders were given to light the tug-fires, and off we 
set. We had a good toss on the bar, and then we neared 
the shi^i, and they sent out a boat and took us all on board. 
There were the two Bishops, and I was so happy. I hardly 
dared to ask how long we should have, for I feared to hear 
only twenty minutes ; but our time was not to be so short. 
"Till Saturday, at any rate," said the cajitain, who has 
been most kind to the whole party. He with some of his 
officers and Mr Procter have gone to P. M. B., and our 
Natal Bishop started within a few hours. 

The way in which he (Bishop Mackenzie) has been re- 
ceived has been quite heart-warming. One man, who was 
strong in opposition, came immediately and said how much 
he regretted what had passed, and how glad they would be 
now could they have him amongst them once more. He is to 
open and consecrate the pretty little church at the Point, 
and also to hold a Confirmation at the Umlazi. 

All that afternoon people came and went, and came and 
went; but at last we made our escape, and had a little stroll 
on the shore, which was most pleasant. 


January 31, Thursday. It is already more tlian a week 
since I wrote, and here I am quietly sitting at home. * '"' * 
I shall go on with my story as well as I can. On Wednes- 
day I wi'ote with perpetual interruptions and callers : tliis 
lasted till dinuer-time; after which we went to the photo- 
grapher's, then home to tea, and then to church, where he 
preached. It was on the ten virgins, — earnest and rousing, 
and yet so tender that at the end I fairly got my head down 
and sobbed. * * * Next day was a day, work, work, 
work : packing and unpacking, dividing and sorting, in- 
terriipted with visitors. * * * Next morning to work 
again, for we had to clear the room for an entertain- 
ment, and at half-past ten to go off by the train to the 
little Point Church. It was beautiful. The new Bishop 
in his robes, with six of the Natal clergy after him, came 
up the centre of the little church, chanting the 24th 
Psalm. Then the prayers for the Consecration, so exqui- 
sitely beautiful; then his sermon. He began with Solo- 
mon's temple, wherein our churches differ from it, resemble 
it, and exceed it in glory; the duties of the worship- 
pers because of their privileges ; and then a most home- 
touching appeal to \is all, as being ourselves temples con- 
secrated to God. It was most earnest, and most profitable, 
and most sweet to listen to. Then came the Holy Commu- 
nion. * * » Then home to our entertainment, which 
went off remarkably well. Then came speeches, and in the 
deep, earnest, loving words which fell from one after another, 
I was not the only one who was overcome. Strong men 
fairly cried, then and afterwards, as they spoke of the kind 
heart and loving deeds and earnest Christian life of him 
who was going from among them, and of the noble self- 
sacrificing spirit in which he goes foi-th. I cannot tell you 
all that passed: how he took blame to himself for some 
share in the troubles of past days, and begged those who heard 
him to tell his former opponents what he said, and how his 
friends repudiated the idea with horror, and declared that 


if all was to do again, they would again stand by him 
through thick and thin, and how the Bishop of Natal's 
health was proposed by one who is deeply indebted to him 
and most gratefully affectionate in his feelings to him, and 
at last how thankful I was to get away. 


Next morning an-ived the captain from P. M. B. , and 
said if the mail did not come before two he would wait till 


On Sunday off the first thing to Claremont riding. The 
ride was delightful. The whole road so full of associations. 
The river where I sat on my horse alone on the first night 
after my arrival, &c. The little church at Claremont was 
well filled. Seven were confirmed. The Bishop's address 
and sermon seemed to reach the children's hearts. The 
Litany seemed more full of meaning than I had ever heard 
it. Then the hymn, " Put thou thy trust in God," though 
chosen for the candidates, seemed every word to suit our- 
selves. * * * After church we rode to the Umlazi * * * 
and so back to town, just in time for the evening service. 
The Bishop preached again. He found a missionary sermon 
was expected. The church was crowded. He spoke most 
openly on the treatment of the natives here as a shame to 
the white people, only taking as much work out of them as 
possible, without caring for their interests in any way; no 
Church-school for them in the town ; no sympathy with 
their home-joys or sorrows; hardly credit given them for 
having within them deeper thoughts and feelings, than they 
care to reveal to those who seem to have so little human 
sympathy with them. He said while this was the state of 
things among us here, to raise an interest in the tribes 
further off would be something unreal, and could lead to no 
good. Even before we left the church, as well as several 
times afterwards, people came to me to speak of the sermon. 


and say how it had smitten their consciences, and made 
them desire that the reproach should be upon them no 
longer. Indeed, we had a kind of meeting in our room 
after church, and I have good hope something may be done 
in the way of evening teaching for the people. 

As we were returning we saw a rocket from the sea : 
a gun fired: the mail was in: and the captain, who was 
with us, said he would let us know the first thing in the 
morning what hour he would sail. Well, after this there 
was little peace or quiet. We were too tired to sit up that 
night, and next morning there was so much to arrange, and 
everybody was coming and going, and we heard we were to 
go by the half-past two train. A great many friends went 
with us ; but on the shore we slipped away. * * ^' We 
went on board the tug, and stood together high up on the 
captain's place; we were washed again and again by the 
great waves. * * * When he went, and I had his last 
kiss and blessing, his own bright beautiful spirit infected 
mine, and I could return his parting words without flinch- 
ing ; I saw him go without even a tear dimming my eye, 
so that I could watch him to the last, looking after our 
little boat again crossing the bar, till we could distinguish 
each other no more. 

In speaking one day of happiness, he said, " I have given 
up looking for that altogether. Now till death my post is 
one of unrest and care. To be the sharer of every one's sor- 
rows?, the comforter of every one's griefs, the strengthener 
of every one's weakness — to do this as much as in me lies 
is now my aim and object : for yoii know when the members 
sufier, the pain must always fly to the head." He said this 
with a smile, and O ! the peace in his face ! it seemed 
as if nothing could shake it. 

The vessel which brought the mail for which the 
Lyra waited, brought also another missionary, the 
Rev. H. Rowley, who joined the Bishop's party. The 


plan now was to meet Dr Livingstone at the Kongone 
mouth of the Zambesi, pick up the first portion of the 
mission party, who had already gone forward in the 
Sidon, and then immediately proceed up the Zambesi 
and Shire in the Pioneer with Dr Livingstone. 

The Lyra arrived off Kongone on February 7, and 
found that the Sidon, with the Pioneer, had arrived 
eight days previously. The Pioneer had gone in on 
Feb. 5, only two days before the Bishop's arrival. On 
Saturday, February 9, Captain Oldfield kindly took 
Bishop Mackenzie over the bar, in order that he might 
be no longer prevented from meeting Dr Livingstone 
and concerting future measures with him. The result 
of the consultation was rather disappointing ; Dr Living- 
stone strongly dissuaded an immediate ascent of the 
Zambesi ; the season was not favourable ; there was no 
chief to whom he felt that he could at this time con- 
fidently commend the mission party, and he was very 
anxious to explore what he believed would be a better 
route to the future scene of the labours of the mission- 
aries by way of the Bovuma, a river which enters the 
sea at a considerable distance north of Kongone. 
Bishop Mackenzie's position was one of much difficulty : 
he dreaded the thought of several months' further delay, 
and the possible forced idleness of a large portion of 
the mission party ; on the other hand, it seemed im- 
possible to insist upon a step opposed to the mature 
judgment of Dr Livingstone. The result was, that he 
consented to Dr Livingstone's plan, and the actual 
work of the mission was thus postponed. I will here 
introduce a letter from the Bishop to one of the secre- 


taries of the mission, in which the position of affairs 
is explained. 


Feb. 27, Wednesday. 

Dear Strong, 

I have lately written, but as it is not unlikely that 
this letter may anticipate the last, I will tell you shortly 
what has happened since we left Natal. We sailed on 
Tuesday, July 29th, from Natal, having Rowley ou board. 
We got to Kongone after a fair passage of nine days, and 
found the Sidon at anchor, having been there eight days ; 
the Pioneer had crossed the bar on Feb. 5. On Saturday, 
Feb. 9, the Pioneer not having come out, as I thought she 
would, Captain Oldfield most kindly took me over the bar, 
when we fell in with not only Waller, Scudamore, Gamble, 
Adams, May and his party, but also Livingstone, Kirk, and 
Charles Livingstone. We had arranged to return to the 
ship on the Sunday morning, but again Captain Oldfield 
arranged his movements so as to suit me, and put off his 
return to his ship till Monday morning. This was rendered 
necessary by Livingstone's proposing a plan, which required 
some thought on my part. He proposed that instead of 
going up the Zambesi and Shii-e at once, to settle in such a 
place as he shoiild advise, which was the plan we had all 
along considered our only one, we should postpone going up 
till he had explored the Rovuma, and ascertained whether 
or not it would give a better road to the district of the Shire 
and Nyassa than that afforded by the Zambesi. I objected 
to this proposal, that it would involve considerable and in- 
definite delay to us, and would transform us from a mission- 
ary body, ready to attempt at once to overcome the diffi- 
culties attending a settlement in a new country, into an 
exploring party, that we should be not only losing our time 
but embarrassing him by our presence, and that I did not 



see that our going up from Kongone and settling on the 
banks of the Shire was in any way opposed to his plan of 
exploring the Rovuma ; for if he found a good entrance 
there, we could communicate with him in the interior. To 
meet my objection that we should be encumbering him, an 
objection that was not mine alone, he answered that the 
mass of our party might remain at some such place as Jo- 
hanna, one of the Comoro Islands, which lie between the 
northern end of Madagascar and the continent, while I and 
perhaps another might go with him. I at once objected to 
this that we had had separations enough, as well as delays, 
and I thought this modification made the plan more dis- 
tasteful to me than before. After speaking to "Waller and 
Scudamore on the Sunday, and consulting Captain Oldfield, 
I determined to ask Livingstone to let us adhere to our 
plan, and to go with us, and see us settled, before he went 
to the Rovuma. Accordingly I wi'ote him my decision, not 
being able to see him before our early start to the ship on 
Monday morning (Feb. 11). 

Next morning the Pioneer came out, and Livingstone 
begged me to reconsider my decision : he put more strongly 
than I expected the difficulties of doing as I proposed, repeat- 
ing what he had written to England the previous May, that 
he did not know a single chief to whom he could commend 
us with confidence, now that Chibisa had gone ; and besides, 
that before we could settle on any healthy spot, we must 
leave our goods on the low ground close to the Shire, and 
that the one who remained in charge, while we attempted 
to remove them gradually to a place of safety, would be sure 
to take the fever. In short, he spoke so strongly that I felt 
I had no right to force him to take part in a plan, of which 
he so distinctly disapproved ; and yet my own objections to 
his plan were as great as ever. At last we agreed that we 
would do as he advised, with this proviso, that he should 
not keep us waiting more than three months, but would 


then, if not sooner, decide between our going up by Kongone 
or by the Rovuma. I fiu'ther followed his advice by deter- 
mining to go with him. myself and take Rowley, but leave 
the rest at Johanna. I found that they all agi-eed to this as 
a disagreeable necessity, but in a way that left me no mis- 
giving in adopting it. Johanna was chosen as being the 
head-quarters of the cruising squadron on this coast. It is 
a naval coaling station, and seemed the most suitable place 
both for present need and future contingencies. 

Accordingly we again parted company : the Pioneer., taking 
May's and Livingstone's parties, proceeded direct to the Rovu- 
ma. The Sidon taking her old complement, excepting Waller, 
(that is to say, Scudamore, Gamble, Adams, Job, and Apol- 
los,) was to convoy the Pioneer some part of the way, and 
then come on to Johanna, while the Lyra came away first 
to Johanna (with Rowley, Waller, Procter, Charles, Thomas, 
Roby, and myself) to coal, and then to meet the Pioneer ab 
the Rovuma mouth, carrying to her five tons of coal, and 
handing over to her Rowley and myself, having previously 
deposited the rest of our party at Johanna. Waller bad 
wisely brought out from Kongone on Tuesday morning all 
his detachment, and Livingstone his whole party; so that 
we were ready to be off. Accordingly that same afternoon we 
were all on our several routes. We fell in with the Pioneer 
two days after on the high seas, and were near enough to 
exchange visits by means of boats: also on the 16th, Satur- 
day, we sighted them again. They had lost sight of the Sidon 
on the first night, and were making their way alone. 

I ought to have said above, what will I think have been 
taken for granted, that during the discussion Livingstone 
continued as friendly and kind as possible, and was most 
willing to help in carrying out the plan we had thought of, 
if decided upon. He is an excellent fellow, and I have no 
fear of any difficulty at any time arising between us. 

We reached Johanna on the morning of February 21. 

* * * * -> 


The following letters will carry on the story : 


H. M. S. Lyra, off the Coast, 50 Miles S. of Cape Delgado, 

March 4, Monday. 
Dear Strong, 

-X- * * * * 

My last date was, I think, Feb. 22. On that evening 
news reached us confirming the report of the Wasj) being on 
shore on the mainland, and also of the Enchantress having 
struck a reef off Mayotta, one of the Comoro Islands. Next 
morning, Feb. 23rd, we sailed for the spot and spent the 
next five days in saving goods from the wreck. 


On Saturday morning, March 2, we left Johanna, pass- 
ing for the fourth time safely through the passage between 
reefs, which is the only entrance to the harbour. * * * 
We are now (about one p.m., Monday, March 4) in sight 
of the Wasp and Persian^ though not near enough to see 
what is being, or has been, done. Should the Lyra be 
obliged, as we have thought most probable, to remain and 
help here, the captain most kindly promises to send the 
2ud litiitenant in the pinnace to take Rowley and myself 
to the Rovuma. If not, he will take us up in this ship. 
On parting from the Pioneer we said tliey might look for us 
about March 1. We may now hope to be not more than 
five days behind our time, notwithstanding the accumulation 
of obstacles that we did not foresee ) and even this is of the 
less consequence, inasmuch as from the light winds we have 
had we do not think the Pioneer will be much, if at all, 
sooner than ourselves in reaching the rendezvous. 

March 5, Tuesday. 
At Anchor, Long. 40° 30' E. Lat. ii°io'S. 

We came to anchor yesterday, about one. Found the 
Wasp got off, though it is still a question what state she is 


in. As far as we are concerned our connection witli lier 
will cease to-niglit. We start for the Rovuma to-morrow 
moraing. We expect to be out one night. (How little we 
think now of a voyage to last two days ! It seems a mere 
step.) And then we quite hope to meet Livingstone. News 
of other kinds I have none. I am tired of saying I shall be 
tjlad to be at work. 


H. M. S. Li/ra, March gth, 18(11, 

Mouth of the Rovuma, Lat. 10° 30'. 

Dear Strong, 

I wrote to you by the Cape a letter which I sent on 
board the Persian three days ago. I was then on board this 
vessel, about 100 miles further south, in company with the 
Persian and the Wasp. We weighed anchor on the morning 
of the 6th, and rounded Cape Delgado and got into this bay, 
whose headlands ai'e about ten miles ajiart — a shallow bay into 
which all the mouths of the Rovuma discharge themselves. 
We soon saw the Pioneer lying near the shore at anchor, 
and, steering for her, cast anchor some 300 or 400 yards 
from her. Dr Livingstone, Mr May, R.N., and Dr Kirk, 
were soon aboard of us. They had been here eleven days. 
They had gone up a narrow outlet to see to v/hat it led, and 
returned, confirmed in the idea that the great mouth, in the 
jaws of which we are now at anchor, is the one. They spent 
a day on this also, and say that it is one mile broad between 
high water-mark on the two sides, and that in sounding 
they had no bottom at seventeen fathoms. There is no bar, 
only a rippling on the water at high tide. They went up 
about eight miles, and found themselves then at the entrance 
upon higher lands, about 300 feet high. This leads to the 
hope that vessels may easily anchor here, and that a very 


short time will suffice to carry a party through the delta, 
which is always found to be the most feverish place. They 
saw a good deal of cultivation. Many of the gardens of the 
natives near the river were flooded, the river being now 
about its highest. These natives spoke languages akin to 
those on the Zambesi, and, though much surprised, were not 
afraid. They had made up then* minds to start up the river 
on Monday without iis if we did not appear, and had already 
buried a bottle with this intelligence for us. They had sus- 
pended a large barrel, painted white, to a tree on the beach, 
to direct us to this simple poste restante. Now we pi'opose 
to start on Monday about noon, the morning of that day 
being required for transferring coals and provisions to the 
Pioneer. They have been quite well, and were very glad to 
see us. Livingstone says they have been thinking that if 
this river looks well, they may, when a land exploring party 
leaves the ship, send her for the rest of our party to Johanna. 

March 12, 1861, ahout 15 miles up the Rovuma. 

It is more than I expected, being able to write to you 
by this opportunity from a point so far up the river. Capt. 
Oldfield determined to spend a day and a half, which have 
now grown into two days, in accompanying us part of the 
way up this river, and we shall send this away by him. 
Monday morning (yesterday) was spent by us in transferring 
some coals and provisions from the Lyra to the Pioneer, and 
finally, about one o'clock, we transhipped ourselves. I had 
formed some acquaintance with all on board the Lyra. 
Rowley also knew them all — I mean sailors as well as offi- 
cers — and the cheer they gave us from the rigging, when 
our boat had pulled off from the ship's side, makes my heart 
leap to my mouth still by the mere remembrance. 

We steamed up the right bank of the river, for two or 
three hours. The stream is about a mile wide, in many 
places five to six fathoms deep, in some one fathom and 


less; once we had to anchor, as we were in water less than 
a fathom deep, and we draw over four feet, and there 
did not seem to be any passage above. A boat went out 
to explore, and after some delay we retraced our course 
a little, and then got an opportunity of passing into ano- 
ther channel. It is interesting work watching this ope- 
ration of seeking a channel, hearing the conversation be- 
tween May, Livingstone, Charles Livingstone, and Kirk, or 
some of them, or getting an actual lesson when Livingstone 
shows us the signs of a bank, which we should not have 
seen. Last night we anchored in the full channel, stream 
running as usual two or three miles an hour. In the morn- 
ing a boat pulled across the stream before the anchor was 
raised, to open or renew communications with the natives. 
I say " renew," because the Pioneer's boat had come up 
nearly as high a week ago, and had made friends, and begun 
a system of barter with one village. On landing we found 
it was not the same spot; one or two dark figui'es wei"e just 
disappearing among the shrubs and trees. Dr Livingstone 
told one of the party (Joseph, who was engaged at Cape 
Town) to tell them not to run away, and the result of his 
shouting was that a man soon returned. 

The language here is so much akin to that on the Lower 
Zambesi, that even Dr Livingstone holds a (somewhat broken) 
communication with them. The resvilt of the interview was 
the purchase of some fowls and vegetables for cloth; a pro- 
mise on the part of the native that he would tell all his 
neighbours that we are merciful and good Englishmen ; and 
an attempt to express to him that we have come to teach the 
black people. We had not much time to spend, but were well 
satisfied with the resvilt of our first interview with natives 
of the country. It is true this man is a stranger; the ap- 
pearance of his garden corroborated his own accoimt that he 
had not cultivated there long; still he will tell his neigh- 
bours, and so the effect of oiu- visit will be the same. 

The scenery is now becoming beautiful — hills two or 


three hundred feet high within two or three miles of us, and 
the river winding majestically in its wide bed, sometimes 
washing the foot of the ridge that bounds the valley, on one 
Bide or the other; sometimes widening to a mile and a half, 
and forming islands, generally low and grassy, but occa- 
sionally of size and importance enough to carry trees with 
fresh and luxuriant foliage. The mangroves have all been 
left behind; now we have baobabs, flat-crowned palms, wild 
date, wild fig, &c. There has not as yet been either any 
tributary, or any stream branching off to form another 
mouth. It is clear this is the main mouth, though no doubt 
there are connections with other mouths near this one. In 
one or two places, within four miles of the sea, there were 
sluggish channels, fifty or sixty yards wide, leaving the 
stream and almost immediately escaping sight in the closer 
vegetation of that part. These might continue indejiendent 
channels to the sea, or quite as likely might fine away 
altogether, or return shortly to the main stream. 

So far as we can see, this river is answering the expec- 
tations formed of it. Of course we cannot tell what its 
upper jmrt may be, but it is something to have got up fifteen 
miles (or at least twelve) with such ease. Good bye. 

Youi's affectionately, 

C. F. M. 


River Rovuma, 20 iniles from Sea, 

March 23, Saturday. 
Dear Strong, 

* * * 45- * 

We ascended this river for five days. At first we had 
deep water, but very soon began to find it shoal. On the 
first day we had to stop (finding only one fathom), and cross 
to the other side. On the second, the navigation was in one 
or two places intricate. On the third, we had to return 
tiome distance, finding our channel fail us : so that we began 


to perceive tliat we should be compelled to return in a few 
days, instead of spending a couple of months, to secure our 
getting out before the fall of the water should make some of 
our difficulties become impossibilities, and so cut me off 
from a return to my party at Johanna, and indeed from any 
actual mission work. * * * It was by this time clear 
that we could not hope this season to explore far enough to 
give a favourable account of this river, and go to Johanna 
for our men. We were not 30 miles (probably about 25) 
from the sea, and could not be sure that before we had gone 
20 miles further we should not find a cataract or something 
that would in*emediably impede water-cari'iage. The natives 
indeed, on the whole, give a good accoiint of it. They say 
that a canoe can come out of Lake Nyassa, where the Mang- 
anja live (they knew both these names before we suggested 
them), and reach the sea by the Rovuma : but no one of 
them has been far enough to quote his own experience on 
this point, nor have they seen any one who has ; so that the 
matter is still in doubt. Besides, there is the important 
consideration that the steamer cannot go wherever a canoe 
can. We had no hesitation on this point, that the steamer 
must lose no time in reaching the sea, so that she may call 
at Johanna, and proceed up the Shire this year to place us 
where we may begin our woi'k. 

But nonfacilis descensics Ovuma, (the natives pronounce 
it as often without the R as with it ;) the current, which 
would be of the greatest service if the channel were broad, 
makes it much moi-e dangerous to thread the way down 
through shoals, than to go up over the same ground. We 
have already spent five days, and have not made good twice 
as many miles. We have spent two nights gi-ounded on 
the sand, and have all had much hard work. 



{To the same.) 

April I, Monday. 

Lat. n° S. Long. 41° E. 

When I last wrote, I spoke of continuing to cut wood 
all tliat Saturday (Maj'ch 23), and not lifting our anchor 
till the following Monday. However, about two p.m. it 
was decided that we should call all on board and start, a 
boat preceding us in doubtful places : partly by its aid, 
though moi'e by the gain of a foot from the late rains, we 
ran down with less trouble than we had come up. Within 
a couple of hours we were in sight of the sea. * * * 
Thus ended a fortnight's voyage in the river. 

The results of the exploration have not been great ; 
chiefly this, that the hopes founded ujion the appearance of 
the mouth have been to a considerable extent disappointed, 
while there is room left for hope as to the effect of trying 
a vessel drawing (say) two feet, and also the effect of the 
falling of the flood in deepening the channel when the river 
shall spread less uni'estrainedly from bank to bank. 

We proposed to spend two or three days in cutting 
wood, and preparing the vessel for sea, and hoped to get to 
Johanna in time to spend Easter-day (March 31) in reunion, 
and with Holy Communion with our fi^iends there. But 
in this we have been disappointed. On the Monday or 
Tuesday I resigned myself into the doctor's hands, to be 
treated for fever : it was a very mild attack, cei-tainly no 
worse than a slight influenza cold, and I was all right again 
in a day or two. Unfortunately, I was only the first of 
several, and before the engine was put into gear, after some 
parts had been repaired, an engineer was on his back ; and 
in all, half the whites on board were attacked. It was 
clear that the sooner we could leave the coast the better. 
Accordingly, as soon as the engine could be connected, 
which was on Good-Friday morning, we were rejoiced to 


hear the order, "All hands, up anchor;" and we were soon 
out of sight of land. 

The crew are beginning to return to work one after 
another: we have taken turns to sujiply their place at the 
wheel, and on the look-out. There has not been much 
else to be done. 

As to the fever, they say that they think the Eovuma 
worse than the Zambesi. My experience worxld lead me to 
say that the cui'e is worse than the disease, but my attack 
was a slight one. 


(To the same.) 

April 18, Thursday. 


The day following that on which I last wrote, we 
reached, not Johanna, as we had wished, but another 
island of the group, Mohella. We cast anchor when the 
fuel remaining was not more than would have served to 
keep up the steam for one hour longei". We could not but 
feel a little anxious as we gradually neai-ed the island : for 
had the coal failed before we could anchor, we should have 
been drifted back by wind and currents. We were detained 
for six days, merely getting enough wood and water to take 
us across to Johanna, which was now in full sight. At 
last, on April 8, we crossed, and found that though our 
friends had had severe attacks of fever, they were now all 
well, or with slight ailments. 

Thus ended the expedition to the Rovuma. As it 
turned out, little advantage, or none, was gained for 
the missionary work ; but I think it is clear that Bishop 


Mackenzie could not have acted otherwise than he did, 
without exhibiting a confidence in his own opinion, 
when opposed to that of Dr Livingstone, which might 
have been justly described as not wise but head- 

It was in getting ready for sea, at the mouth of the 
Rovuma, that Bishop Mackenzie had his first attack of 
African fever ; it will be seen from his mention of the 
attack, in the preceding page, that his illness was but 
slight, and that he was already tempted to think too 
little of the power of the disease; the strength of his 
constitution, and the readiness with which he rallied, 
tended perhaps to foster the notion more than he him- 
self suspected, that the dangerous character of the 
fever had been exaggerated. To this underrating of 
the fever may to a certain extent be attributed the 
conduct, which afterwards, as we shall see, led to so 
lamentable a result. 

In the Rovuma also. Bishop Mackenzie appears to 
have run a risk of his life, to which I find no allusion 
in his own letters ; in a letter to a friend, Mr Charles 
Livingstone writes, "He worked very hard while we 
were in the river ; and once, to our utter horror, gave 
a Rovuma alligator an opportunity (the like of which 
no alligator ever had before) of immortalising himself 
by devouring a live Bishop ! Fortunately, the monster 
was not ambitious of such renown." 

The next letter does not add to the narrative, but 
will be acceptable as a token of the gentle affectionate 
feelings of the writer. It is to a brother in Scotland. 



On Board the Pioneer, 

Lat. 11° S. Long. 41° E. 

Ajml I, Monday. 

Every happiness and every blessing to you in the 
year that opens upon you on this day. I thought of you 
early this morning, before in fact it was your birthday to 
you at home. I was on watch on deck from one to half- 
past two tliis morning, as four of us agreed to relieve the 
crew for the night, many of them being down with fever. 
It is a dull day, and we have had rather a dreary week; 
but things are looking up, and we are now steaming rapidly 
(six or seven knots an hour) towards Johanna, where we 
hope to find our party in health and strength. It is this 
day three months since I was made a Bishop, and received 
mission to preach to the tribes of Nyassa and Shire; and 
since that time, I have been almost without inteiTUjDtion 
at sea. I do not think this has been my own fault ; and 
even now Livingstone speaks of the advantage of our not 
having gone up to the Shire in February, when we were at 
Kongone. I am still of opinion that it would have been 
better if we had, but I do not think I could withstand the 
weight of advice that was pressed on me. Now, however, 
I trust that this month will not end before we are at the 
foot of the Murchison Cataract. It is very pleasant being 
on the easy terms we are with Livingstone ; and as for Dr 
Kirk, we are the greatest possible cronies. He encouraged 
me to try my hand at botanizing, a thing which has been 
open to me any time as long as I can remember, but for 
which I never thought I had any turn ; but now, with his 
help, I have settled the order to which each of some ten or 
twelve plants belong, of whose nature I had no notion to 
begin with. He is an excellent teacher. 

There are a few things, which I have in constant use : 
your wrist-studs; the watch you gave me, which goes well; 


the clock witb alarum, which is at present acting as ship's 
clock; the writing-case I begged from in the Cam- 
brian; the sextant gave me; 's Prayer-book; 

Mrs 's Christian Year : and, by the bye, as I may not 

be writing to Portmore immediately, please tell the 

cheese was not opened till we were in the B-ovuma, and 
was found in excellent condition, thanks to your friend the 
tinman; indeed, Livingstone and all the party begged me to 
give their best thanks to the lady donor for a cheese, which 
had evidently not been made for sale. It was really very 
good; Englishmen allowed that Scotland could match them 
even in pasture produce, and we esteemed it so highly, that 
we laid by half till our whole party should be together : it 
will come out in the Zambesi. 

I insert the following, because it contains one of the 
few confessions that (I believe) Bishop Mackenzie ever 
made of being overdone and out of spirits. It is to his 
sister in Scotland. It is amusing to observe the reason 
assigned for this confession of weakness. 


April 20, Saturday. 

I HAVE been very well since I wrote last, excepting 
a fit of lowness and weakness from over- work a week ago. 
I had returned to this island a little below the mark, but 
thought a good walk would do me good. I arranged with 
Kirk that we should go together: we started at 7.30, in- 
stead of 5.30 or 6, as we were advised. The climb, 3000 
feet, was very steep. I felt knocked-up, could hardly 
touch breakfast, and almost came back for fear I should 
break down. However, foi*tunately an hour's rest in the 
shade by a stream did me good. I went on, and got home 


tired. Next day I felt well, but the day after knocked-up ; 
and my spirits gave way. I lay on the bed, or in an arm- 
chair, as weak as water for two days : but Kirk set me right, 
and now I am quite well. I tell you all this, because I 
wish you to believe me when I tell you that I have been 
quite well. 

The delays which had been so wearisome to the mis- 
sionary party were now at length at an end. Tlie Rovuma 
had been tried, and for the present at all events had 
proved a failure ; the missionaries were assembled at 
Johanna, and all was ready for a start towards the 
Zambesi. Speaking of the residence of himself and the 
rest of the party left at Johanna during the exploration 
of the EiOvuma, Mr Waller says, " Our stay here would 
have been one of the utmost enjoyment, surrounded as 
we have been by extreme kindness on the part of the 
inhabitants, and benefiting by the unbounded hospi- 
tality and attention of Mr Sunley, the British Consul 
for the Comoro Islands. Unfortunately, however, we 
have sujEfered a good deal from fever, and I think but 
one out of the party of ten has escaped it." Speaking 
of the work in which they had employed themselves 
during their enforced residence at Johanna, he adds, 
" The Arabs of the islands are a most interesting set. 
They nearly all speak English a little, and were anxious 
beyond measure to learn it ; kings, lords, and commons 
were our pupils ; and right sorry we were to leave 
them. They are not at all disposed to quarrel on 
points of religion : on the contrary, nothing interested 
them more than comparing our stories of the Old 


Testament with their Koran. Of course, when it came 
to the main points of our faith, the same disbelief which 
makes Mahometanism so antagonistic to our religion 
was present. One of the young princes has become a 
staunch Christian ; and report says, the Sultan himself 
is mainly anxious to know English thoroughly, that 
he may read the Bible. He says it is ' more better' 
than the ' other book,' meaning the Koran. Still read- 
ing it for its poetry and searching it for its faith are 
two different things. Yet with a people so eminently 
susceptible of the power of language, and really re- 
ligiously inclined, I cannot help thinking very much 
might be done. I mentioned the subject of a mission- 
aiy to several of them. Nothing would delight them 
more than to have some one who would teach them 
English, and the king promises a piece of land and his 
personal aid to any one who would come out for this 
purpose ; but, as a good Mahomedan, he cannot ask 
point blank for a missionary. Still, any energetic man 
would find here that the thin end of the wedge is 
inserted, and he would stand a better chance of causing 
a rift in this wretched infatuation than others less 
fortunate in finding a people disposed most favourably 
to ever3d:hing English." 

On the last day of April the Pioneer was off 
Kongone; the bar was too rough to permit the vessel 
to cross; on the morning of May 1, the j)assage was 
effected without difficulty, and on that day the Bishop 
reported his party " all well ;" though he adds, that in 
the course of the voyage about half of those on board 
had been down with attacks of fever. 


It is unnecessary to dwell upon the arrangements 
for ascending the river. We will suppose these to have 
been made, and will allow Bishop Mackenzie to tell 
his own story, 


{To his Sister at the Cape.) 

May 8, Wednesday. 
Dear , 

* * * * * 

We are now steaming up tlirougli the delta, without a 
single case of sickness on board. 

This is a fine river; and we have this advantage over 
the E-ovuma, that Livingstone knows the river, and we 
never stick as we did there. 

The responsibility and difficulty of the work seem to in- 
crease as it comes nearer. I have been reading Moffat's 
missionary labours, and it has made me think moi'e of the 
difficulties, not only of a practical outward kind, but still 
more of a spiritual kind. It has helped me also to remember 
that in God is our help, and that we attempt nothing in our 
own name. 

Livingstone is most kind and excellent. He promises to 
make a tour with us, as soon as we leave the shi^?, to look 
out for a site. We hope to reach the Murchison Cataract 
in about seventeen days, that is, about Trinity Sunday. 
Then a pai-ty of us, perhaps all of us, with Livingstone 
Kirk and others, will stai-t to look at the country between 
the Shire and Shirwa : high table land, south of the top of 
Zomba, where Livingstone thinks we shall find a suitable 
spot. After that, he proposes to take a boat up the side of 
the river, for thirty-three miles, and putting it on the water 



again spend four or five months exploring Nyassa, especially 
with the view of finding how near the Rovuma comes to 
the lake, or whether it actually runs out of Nyassa, which 
I do not believe. He will be back in time to take the 
Pioneei' down to meet you on December 15. You may on 
getting this think of us as heard of as high as Mazaro, where 
it will leave my hands. God bless you. 

Notice in the next two letters the unfortunately- 
slight opinion, which Bishop Mackenzie had already 
been led to form of the dangerous character of African 


{To a Sister.) 

KivER Shire, 

May 1 6, Wednesday. 

We are lying moored to the bank of the river, about 

three miles above its confluence with the Zambesi. Half 

our river voyage is thus finished. We are all in fine health ; 

I myself in perfect health. We think very little of fever; 

but take fifteen or twenty grains of the mixture of calomel, 

quinine, &c., which Livingstone has found eflScacious, lie by 

for a day or so, and then get up, a little weakened. In 

about a couple of days we are entirely set up : during these 

there is a gi'eat tendency to lassitude, which hangs about 

and retards recovery, unless an efibrt be made to throw it 



We expect to settle somewhere on the high plateau be- 
tween the Shire and Shirwa, which ends northwards in the 
high mountain Zomba. Our settlement will very likely be 
about thirty miles from where we disembark. Of course, 
cceteris 'paribus, the nearer the river we are the better : but 
we must choose our site partly with a view to health, and. 


the heights are less feverish than the low valley of the Shire, 
aud still more with a view to our work, for which a friendly 
chief will be a great help. However, we shall see in the 
course of our fii-st month, that is, I hope, before the end of 
June, where we can best locate ourselves. Then getting to 
know the people, putting up buildings, beginning a garden 
and a field beyond it, bringing a stream of water to the 
house, these will fully occupy us till about Nov. 15, when 
the Pioneer will go down to the mouth for our ladies. We 
shall all rejoice very much to see them again. 


{To a Sister.) 

May 25, Tuesday. 

* * * * * 

I amused Livingstone the other day by saying I knew 
that his engine burnt wood in the river, but had never 
reckoned the time required for cutting it. They cut down 
dead trees, and then have to saw them into lengths of about 
four feet for the furnaces, and split the thicker blocks. This 
often takes two days at a place, furnishing a supply for about 
as long. This time we also spent two days and nights a- 
ground. This was a serious matter, as the water was not 
rising, but gradually falling. With some difliculty we got 
off: it was not exactly mission- woi'k, but was a necessary 
antecedent to it. 

I have had another specimen of the fever since we 
anchored here, but it seems slighter and slighter every time : 
it came on Saturday morning without interfering with my 
breakfast, except by making it lighter than usual, and on 
the next day I was able to take part in the service. It 
would be worth some people's while to come out here, to get 
so easily through a fever. 

* * * * * 



The reader will conclude from these letters that the 
ascent of the Shire in the Pioneer was a very wearisome 
and laborious matter ; in addition to the difficulties 
arising from the necessity of cutting wood for fuel, 
there were others arising from the numerous sand- 
banks, and the imperfect knowledge of the river pos- 
sessed by those who were navigating it. One source 
of trouble was inherent in the Pioneer herself; she 
drew too much water ; and occasionally a slight devi- 
ation from the channel would throw her upon a bank, 
upon which she would remain fixed for hours or even 
days. These difficulties brought out the finest parts 
of the Bishop's character ; he was ready for all 
emergencies, and would help to cut wood, or assist in 
pushing off the boat, with as much vigour and earnest- 
ness as he could possibly exhibit in his own more 
peculiar duties. I do not wonder that he should have 
made a deep impression upon Dr Livingstone, who, in 
several of his letters, speaks in the highest terms of his 
character and his fitness for the work. 

In a letter which I shall give presently. Bishop 
Mackenzie writes under date June 1, " We are not more 
than twenty miles from the end of our river voyage :" 
but in the letter which will next come before the 
reader, under date June 16, the party are still in the 
river Shire. This will give some notion of the ex- 
tremely tedious character of the voyage. I do not wish 
that it should be equally tedious to the reader, but I 
cannot refrain from inserting the following letter, which 
is addressed to the Cambridge friend to whom was 
written Letter XL VIII. ; the letter, to a certain extent, 


repeats what the reader abeady knows, but it contains 
also some expressions of Avarm brotherly feeling, which, 
under the circumstances of his own labours and anx- 
ieties, are very noticeable, and which I think the 
reader would be sorry to lose. 


(To a Friend in Cambridge.) 

BivER Shire, 

Sunday, June 16, t86i. 
My dear , 

You will hear probably from others what tedious 
delays have arisen in our going up to the place of our work. 

On Feb. 7 we anchored off the mouth of this river, and 
there met Livingstone, who persuaded us to delay our going 
up, till he had tried to ascei'tain the feasibility of a road by 
the Rovuma. 

March 1 found us at Johanna, one of the Comoro Islands, 
delayed in reaching the Rovuma by disasters which befell 
two of H. M. ships. 

April 1 found us returning from the Roviima, which 
had eneoxiraged iis at first to believe that it might he. an 
open way to the inland country, but from which we were 
glad to escape before the falling of the water should make 
this impossible. On April 2 we were near the Comoro 
Islands again, where we had to pick up those of our party 
whom we had left there, not to encumber the vessel in the 
exploration of the Rovuma. 

May 1 found us crossing the bar of the Zambesi, and the 
month and a half since have been spent in labouring up the 
Zambesi and Shire. We are now constantly going aground 
from the narrow and winding channel, which alone is deep 
enovTgh to float us ; and a stick generally costs us three days' 
hard work, to be followed probably by a few hours' motion, 


in wMcli we proceed a few miles. This is the more distress- 
ing, as I have written to Cape Town for our party left 
there to come to the Kongone and meet Livingstone and 
myself on December 15 j and we have much to do, before 
we can call ourselves ready for them. 

On the other hand, there is the all-comforting assurance 
that tlie work is not our own, but God's : that we did not 
seek it for ourselves, but were sent: that we have the 
prayers of those at home, and those in South Africa, for our 
preservation : and that if only we love God, all things will tvirn 
out for our good. I cannot but be most thankful for the spirit 
which God has given to all my fellow-workers, lay as well 
as clei ical, of patient waiting on God : " Blessed is the man 
that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is : for 
he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spread- 
eth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat 
cometh, but her leaf shall be green ; and shall not be careful 
in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding 
fruit." Jer. xvii. 7, 8. 

And all this time we have no news from home. The 
last letters we got were those that left England by last De- 
cember mail : we cannot expect to get others till August 
or September next, or perhaps the end of the year. I am 
anxious to hear news that may affect the Mission, whether 
all those who purposed to come are still in the same mind, 
and other such like things. Perhaps I shall hear fi'om you. 
You remember how I urged you to get into practical paro- 
chial work : I still think this more wholesome for you than 
College life. It will bring you into contact with those who 
feel the need of religion, and when the great fundamental 
truths are not merely propositions to which you assent, nor 
only the foundations of your own life and hope, but when 
you have fed others too, encouraged the timid, warned the 
over-confident, instructed the young, you will find other 
points take their subordinate place firmly and distinctly. 
You have qualities of intelligence and gentleness, which 


would enable you for this ■work. God bless you, my dear 
fellow. Write to me. 

Yours affectionately, 

C. F. M. 

One more letter will carry us to the end of this 
tiresome river expedition. It is written to a sister in 



June 1, i86x. 

We are now not more than twenty miles from the end 
of our river voyage at Chibisa's. It is just a month since 
we crossed the bar. We have come up much more slowly 
than we expected. This has been a week of misfortunes. 
We have not made more than ten miles since Sunday, and 
this is Saturday noon. The fact is, we have been aground 
about as many hours as we have been afloat, and the last 
stick has been one of the most troublesome we have had 
since I first came on board. She was aground midships, 
both bow and stern being almost or quite afloat. Accord- 
ingly, when we laid out an anchor from her bow she swung 
round that way, and when we laid out an anchor from the 
stern she just swung back, turning on her middle as on a 
pivot, but not coming off. It has been hard work. My 
hands are sore and ci'amped with hauling cables and hand- 
ling chains and anchors. They say this vessel must never 
come up this river again, and they will be thankful if she 
ever gets down. 


We are proposing now, that as soon as may be after 
reaching Chibisa's we should all (except Rowley and Gamble) 


go witli Livingstone to clioose a site, and that "Waller alone 
should return to the ship and make successive journeys to 
bring up goods, while we remain on the spot, and begin our 
work. Rowley and Gamble will stay to get up a shed on 
the bank of the river for the reception of goods. 

June 13. Well here we are, not having made more 
than 6 or 7 miles in the last three weeks. We have had 
serious fears that this vessel might be unable to reach 
Chibisa's. But yesterday we got out of a difficulty we had 
been in for two nights, and we are to-day steaming up with 
more hope. 

You know I am of a sanguine temperament, and always 
believe that things will go well. Some of our party are not 
quite so much so : and even I foresee the probability of our 
being in some difficulties often. I was glad therefore to 
read the other day S. Paul's words, "perplexed but not in 
despair," and I mean to steep my mind in them in pi'epara- 
tion. Besides, our Lord's promise is for us too, "It shall 
be given you in that same hour what ye shall say and do ;" 
and those other words we may claim, I think, even more 
than clergymen at home, "Lo, I am with you always, even 
to the end of the world." 

July 6. Since I last wrote, we have passed the great 
chief of the district, Rondo, and have got his consent to our 
going up and settling in the hills ; which is well, though his 
consent is obtained more as a matter of form than anything 
else : he has little real power with the subordinate chiefs. 

We are now within half a mile of Chibisa's, the place 
where the steamer anchored last year (but one), and where 
the vessel will lie this year. 

At length then the Pioneer has arrived at her 
anchorage, and the missionaries at the end of their 
wanderings upon the water. The reader will observe 


that I have told the story of the voyage from the Cape 
of Good Hope very briefly, or rather have allowed 
Bishop Mackenzie himself to do so ; the materials are 
in my hands from which the account might have been 
made much more full, and perhaps in one sense more 
intei"esting ; but I have endeavoured to bear in mind 
that my business is not to write a history of the Uni- 
versities' Mission to Central Africa, but a memoir of 
Bishop Mackenzie, and that this will be done most 
effectively by confining myself to a narrative of which 
his thoughts and doings shall be the principal or almost 
sole constituent. Moreover, much might have been said 
concerning the incidents of adventure on the way, con- 
cerning the inconveniences and hardships suffered, and 
concerning many other matters ; but I think that a 
narrative, which passes by all these things, does in re- 
ality give the truest and most faithful picture of Bishop 
Mackenzie. I notice in all his communications a desire 
to be at his work, a tendency to pass by all other 
considerations as of little value compared with the 
great end of settling his party and commencing mis- 
sionary operations : and so I think that the view of 
the voyage from the Cape to Chibisa's, which the reader 
will have gathered from this chapter, will be a faithful 
view of that voyage as it presented itself to Bishop 
Mackenzie's own mind. 

It may however be interesting to remark, that even 
in this voyage his old love for mathematical investiga- 
tion did not desert him. I have before me a memoir 
of considerable ingenuity on the Method of Least 
Squares; it is dated March 7, 1861; probably it was 


the last mathematical paper he ever wi'ote, and doubt- 
less it served as an amusement in some weary hour. 
The mathematical reader will appreciate the taste and 
ability which could find pastime in so difficult a field 
of investigation ; the ordinary reader may be satisfied 
with being informed, that the subject of the memoir in 
question belongs to the highest and most refined region 
of mathematical science. Mr Scudamore was also a 
mathematician, though his place in the Cambridge 
Tripos was not so distinguished as that gained by the 
Bishop, and frequently a mathematical discussion (so 
delightful to the initiated, though so dry and unin- 
telligible to the rest of the world) formed a pleasant 
recreation for both. 

Perhaps also I ought to observe, before concluding 
my account of the long voyage from the Cape, that the 
pressing anxiety of his own work did not prevent Bishop 
Mackenzie from taking a lively interest in the welfare 
of those with whom he was brought in contact. From 
Mohella, he wrote a long letter concerning the in- 
habitants of the Comoro Islands, especially those of 
Mohella^. It seems that the people of this island have 
a great dread of French influence, and a gi'eat desire 
to receive an English consul ; they opened their hearts 
to the Bishop and Dr Livingstone, who spoke many 
kind words to them, but were able to do little more. 
"If I had not other work on hand," wrote Bishop 
Mackenzie, " I could find in my heart to settle here." 

^ The letter was published at length in the Guardian newspaper 
of Nov. 20, 1S61, 


The letter from Mohella, to which I have just re- 
ferred, was accompanied by the following. It was 
written to one, for whom he had a very great regard, 
and exhibits that earnestness of devotion to his work, 
coupled with a playfulness of expression, and at the 
same time a depth of tender and affectionate feeling, 
which were increasingly characteristic of Mackenzie as 
his life advanced. 


Pioneer, April 5, i86r. 
Mohella, one of the Comoro Islands. 
* * * * * 

It is one of the pains attending this kind of work that 
our efforts seem to be partly wasted. We are gathering out 
the stones, while others are ploughing; but this preliminaiy 
state must be gone through. It is just six months since I 
left England, and I have not yet seen my work, nor do I ex- 
pect to be on the ground for another month. Well, it is 
not wasted : it is the road to our work. 

I am glad to say that the prospect of our expenses is not 
great. There seems every prospect of our being able to gi-ow 
our own wheat; vegetables are common; and there is no 
reason why we should not have flocks and herds. This will 
take a year or two, or more likely tliree : but at the end of 
three years I hope to be, to a considerable extent, independ- 
ent of such supplies. Materials for clothing will always 
come from England. The shoes and boots we brought are 
first-rate : the trousers have not stood the work (in my case 
it has been, and always will be, heavy) so well as I hoped. 
Our ordinary costume is simply flannel-shirt, trousers, shoes 
and socks: so there is no complication when things go to 
the wash. We have few wants, and no cares, except when 
we thought it possible that this vessel might not get out of 


tlie Eovuma, in whicli case "we should not have got up the 
Shire for many months, or that we miglit be out at sea 
without water or fuel in this vessel, which does not sail 
well, having no keel. AYith these (little^) exceptions, — I 
wrote the word little in joke, and strike it out in earnest, — 
which made us pray at the time and be thankful afterwards, 
we have had no cares. And if we shall not soon, perhaps 
in some cases never, meet our old friends on earth, we have 
a sure and cei-tain hope of a better meeting. It is pleasant 
to look forward to the one : it is Life and Joy to be sure of 
the other. 

God bless you all. 

Your affectionate brother in Christ, 

C. F. M. 

We must now return to the Shire. We left the 
Pioneer at her anchorage. The missionaries, it will 
not be doubted, lost as little time as possible in making 
preparations for their journey in search of a settlement. 
We will suppose these preparations to have been 
made, and the missionary party landed on the left 
bank of the Shire. The commencement of the jour- 
ney shall be given in the words of Letter LXXXVIL, 
which continues as follows. 

LETTER LXXXVIL {continuation). 

Chibaba's Village, 

July 20, i86r. 

I am now writing on a Saturday morning. Last Mon- 
day we left the vessel, and took to our feet. It is a beau- 
tiful country this, as fine as Natal. 

You would like to see our picturesque appearance on 
march. From 50 to 100 we have been at diffei-ent times 
this week. Livingstone in his jacket and trousers of blue 

1 In the original the pen has been drawn through the word. 


serge and Lis blue cloth cap. His brother, a taller man, in 
something of the same dress. I with trousers of Oxford 
gi-ey and a coat like a shooting-coat, a broad-brimmed wide- 
awake with white cover, which Livingstone laughs at, but 
which, all the same, keeps the sun off. He is a Salamander. 
Then some thirty natives canying bundles. My large red 
carpet-bag, loosely packed, contains my kit, including two 
blankets and a rug for bedding : (I sleep on a cork bed, 
weighing 7 lbs., an excellent invention). A sack contains 
the pots and pans, betrayed by a handle sticking out through 
some hole. Livingstone's black people, many of them with 
guns; Mobita, who acts as lieutenant, and Charlie, who is 
interpreter. All these winding along the narrow path, some- 
times admiring the glorious hills, Chiradzula which we left 
behind yesterday, Zomba with its flat top, or the distant 
peaks and precipices of the Milanje mountains on our right, 
beyond Shirwa. We have not seen its blue waters yet : 
we are about 1000 feet above it, on a plateau, but there 
must be many rising grounds on this plateau from which 

the lake will be visible. 

-::- * * * .Si- 

We are later this morning than usual in making a start. 
We generally get two or three hours' walk before breakfast; 
but yesterday on getting here it was discovered that one 
basket was missing. One of Livingstone's people went back 
alone, without giving notice, to look for it, and has not yet 
returned, and, in the present state of the country, Living- 
stone is anxious about him. I hear this moment that the 
man has returned, but four others who went to look for 
him are still out. I suppose .we shall be off immediately. 
Good bye, then, for the present. 

The missionary party are now finally on African 
soil, and on their way to choose a settlement. The 
important events connected with this choice shall be 
reserved for another chapter. 


"We now come to the most eventful portion of Bishop 
Mackenzie's life. 

The Pioneer cast anchor at a point of the river 
Shire, marked in the map as Chibisas, on July 8. It is 
the spot at which Dr Livingstone left the Ma Rohei^t 
on his former trips to Shirwa and Nyassa. Bishop 
Mackenzie says of it, "it is a beautiful place, on the 
right bank of the river : from the ship you can see the 
smoke and tops of the huts of the village, still called 
Chibisa's, though that chief has returned to his former 
place near Tette." 

Some time was taken up in landing baggage and 
stowing it in a tent, which was erected for the purpose 
on an island between the ship and the eastern or left 
bank of the river ; and when all necessary arrangements 
had been made, the party started on a land expedition, 
with Dr Livingstone at their head, and a train of 
bearers, as we have seen in the preceding chapter. The 
design was to find some healthy situation on the high 
ground, where the party might form a settlement, under 
the protection and patronage of some friendly chief. 
The people inhabiting the district in Avhich the mis- 


sionaries now found themselves are known as Mang-anja; 
they appear to be not a very powerful race, at all events 
they are inferior in strength and courage to another 
tribe, or set of tribes, who occupy the neighbouring 
country, and who are known as the Ajawa. It is a slave- 
hunting, slave-dealing district, and is full of the evils 
which belong to that vile traffic. The Mang-anja, as 
the weaker folk, are the greater sufferers ; they are 
not themselves by any means guiltless, and though 
they feel the inconvenience of living near to a people 
fiercer and stronger than themselves, they are full of 
the brutality of savage life, and have undoubtedly been 
engaged in the traffic from which they themselves suffer 
so severely. It was amongst these Mang-anja, that the 
missionary party intended, by Dr Livingstone's advice, 
to settle themselves, and that they did actually settle. 

Just before starting on their expedition, a little 
circumstance brought before tlie eyes of the mis- 
sionaries the first view of difficulties in which they 
might possibly be involved. Four men came down to 
Chibisa's to represent that the Ajawa were making 
war upon the Mang-anja people, and to seek assist- 
ance. This brought the question of the attitude 
which the missionaries should assume with regard 
to the slave-trade very close home. "The question," 
says Bishop Mackenzie in a letter to the Bishop 
of Oxford, "had been raised before, whether it would 
be right to use guns in self-defense, if by any possi- 
bility our own people should attack us. And we were 
nearly unanimous in thinking that we had better let 
matters go to any extremities, even to the loss of our 


own lives, than take the life of one of those for whose 
conversion we had come. We agreed that anything 
short of taking life was allowable in self-defense." The ■ 
question, which was raised by the request for assistance 
against the oj)pression of the Ajawa, was however mani- 
festly different from that which the missionaries had 
discussed. They had agreed that they would not hold 
by force their position amongst the tribes whom they 
came to teach and evangelize ; but what should they 
do in case of being asked to assist tribes who received 
them gladly, supposing there should be such, in repell- 
ing aggression from neighbouring hostile tribes? It 
would not follow that because they ought not to defend 
themselves in a warlike manner against their own flock, 
therefore they ought not to help the weak against 
the strong, and prevent their mission work amongst 
friendly people from being stopped by the interference 
of mischievous and depraved neighbours. Bishop 
Mackenzie at once saw that questions might possibly 
arise, which would require his most anxious and prayer- 
ful consideration. For the present, he was content to 
leave such questions unanswered. He says in the 
letter just above referred to, "I thought I should be 
guided to a right course, if the emergency should occur, 
which did not seem very likely ; and praying for such 
guidance, I went on without coming to a decision on the 

I have given this account of what passed through 
Bishop Mackenzie's mind, when the first appearance of 
the possibility of a conflict with the Ajawa tribes pre- 
sented itself, in order that we may fully understand 


that the policy of the missionary party was essentially 
pacific, and that we may be prepared to believe that 
nothing but overwhelming necessity (in the Bishop's 
judgment) could have induced him to adopt a policy of 
an opposite kind. 

The foundation of this pacific policy was destroyed, 
(as we shall see), before the entire responsibility of 
the conduct of the party devolved upon the Bishop. 
It may perhaps be questioned, whether, under any 
circumstances, a thoroughly pacific course would have 
been understood and appreciated by men situated as 
the Mang-anja people were ; I mean, whether they 
would have been able to comprehend the conduct of 
men who professed their desire to teach a more ex- 
cellent way than the slave traffic, and yet sat with 
their guns by their sides while the Ajawa were hunting 
them do^vn and selling them for slaves ; but anyhow, 
such a course of conduct to be effective and impressive 
must be severely consistent ; it must begin with non- 
intervention, and end with non-intervention ; as soon 
as the first blow has been struck for the purpose of 
regenerating the country by physical force, the pacific 
policy can hardly fail to be mistaken for indifference or 

In saying this, I intend to cast no blame upon the 
conduct of Dr Livingstone, which will be related pre- 
sently ; that he acted with the best intention no one 
will doubt, and I think that it would be a bold thing 
to say that his conduct was not wise and justifiable ; I 
only desire that it should be thoroughly understood to 
what extent that conduct committed the Bishop and 



his party, and that in any judgment which may be 
formed of his subsequent deahngs with the natives due 
weight may be given to the first step, for which he 
was in fact not responsible. 

Of course it may be said, that in a country in which 
the slave-trade is rampant, and the more powerful are 
preying ujDon the weaker and hunting them down for 
slaves, there is no proper missionary field : it may be 
said that the true Christian policy, however difficult 
it may be to practise, is to wait patiently until either 
the progress of civilization and the entrance of lawful 
commerce, or the undisputed possession of the more 
powerful tribes, have taken away from the list of mis- 
sionary difficulties those which arise from the minds of 
the people being disturbed by the constant presence of 
war : and a very good argument may be based upon 
these premisses against interfering in any manner with 
the intestine troubles of savage tribes. But the reader 
ought to bear in mind that however good such a line 
of argument may be, it was not open to Bishop 
Mackenzie. It was not open to him to consider whether 
the tribes on the banks of the Shire were in a fit state 
for missions : he was sent as a missionary to them 
after the circumstances of the case had been weighed, 
and an opinion in favour of a mission had been formed : 
he could not retreat without changing the character of 
the mission or giving it up altogether ; and therefore 
he had to determine what course of conduct he should 
pursue, when he found himself in friendly communica- 
tion with tribes, whom the neighbouring Ajawa were 
willing to oppress, and persecute, and sell into slavery. 


Having made these preliminary observations, I will 
now continue the narrative ; and I cannot do so in any- 
better way than by quoting the Bishop's own account, 
as contained in the letter to the Bishop of Oxford, from 
which I have already made an extract. 


It was on Monday last, July 15, that we left the ship. 
We had been in some anxiety how we should get our things 
carried up. You know that there is no four-footed beast 
here larger than a goat ; so luggage must be carried by men. 
We were thankful to find on the Monday morning that we 
had fifteen bearers, in addition to the six coloured men from 
the ship, whom Livingstone had most kindly assigned to us. 
We were prepared to start if we could get ten men to carry. 
How rich we were now with twice as many ! and before the 
end of the day we had twenty-seven. 

We were a strange jjai'ty. Livingstone tramping along 
with a steady heavy tread, which kept one in mind that he 
had walked across Africa. * * * We were all loaded. 
I had myself in my left-hand a loaded gun, in my right the 
orozier which they gave me at Cape Town, in front a can of 
oil, and behind a bag of seeds, (together weighing about 
twenty-five pounds,) which I carried the greater part of the 
day. I thought of the contrast between my weapon and my 
staff, the one like Jacob, the other like Abraham, who armed 
his trained servants to rescue Lot. I thought also of the 
seed which we must sow in the hearts of the people, and of 
the oil of the Spix-it that must strengthen us in all we do. 

We got to that day's end most of us stifi" and tired, and 
found that the last three miles had not only been more than 
was intended, but being off the road had not shortened our 
march. The people of the village refused to sell anything. 
For ourselves we had biscuit and salt beef to eat with our 
tea and coffee, but the people that wex'e with us had eatea 



nothing since morning, and many of our bearers had pro- 
bably fasted all day. We followed Livingstone's example, 
giving the party a piece of cloth, that they might try their 
success in bartering, and that if they failed they might at 
least not blame us, and might console themselves by a divi- 
sion of the stuff. It was but two yards of calico among 
twenty-one persons. 

In the morning on calling our bearers it seemed that five 
had gone off to try and buy meal at a neighbouring village. 
We took a cup of coffee, but were to breakfast at the next 
village. The sun was up, and Livingstone was anxious not 
%o detain the whole party (in all forty-seven); so Procter 
remained with me to bring up the rear. We sat on one of 
the packages in the middle of that heathen village, and read 
the Psalms for the day, chanting the doxologies ; partly be- 
cause we are both fond of music, partly that the people 
might become aware of our occupation, as they doubtless 
would from one of our Christian blacks who stayed with us. 
At last the men appeared, and we started. We knew the 
general direction, and at every place where the path branch- 
ed one of the leadei's of the party made a scrape with his 
shoe across the path which we were to avoid, or laid a fresh 
twig across to mark it. We got to the village of Mambame 
about an hour after the others, and learned that by going 
out of the way the previous day, we had this morning I'eached 
this village by a much easier path than that which Living- 
stone already knew, a discovery of far more importance for 
the future than simply for the ease of that mox-ning's walk. 
With what appetites we sat down to breakfast about eleven, 
you may imagine. 

But now comes the important part of my story. Living- 
stone being not quite well, and this village being large, and 
the head man, Mambame, friendly, it was decided to stay for 
the day. I went down to the stream with Procter and 
Scudamore to bathe. We heard a sound of penny trumpets, 
and thought Livingstone had been giving away presents: 


•when sliortly Dr Kirk came and told us that a party of six 
men with muskets had come flourishing into the village, 
with a train of eighty-four slaves; that the men had run 
away and the slaves were free ; that our guns had all been 
out, though the conscience-stricken wretches had needed no 
firing to hasten their flight. There had been five or ten 
minutes' notice of their approach, so that Livingstone had 
time delibex-ately to take his course, — a course which no one 
can blame; but surely all will join in blessing God that we 
have such a fellow-countryman. 

When I came up from the stream I found the whole 
party that had been freed sitting in groups round fires, which 
they had lighted and were feeding with the sticks which had 
been fastened round the necks of some to reduce them to 
obedience. There was a preponderance of children ; not 
many men. In answer to Livingstone's inquiries, they said 
they had been brought from Zomba, that is, near the place 
where we thought of settling ourselves. One little boy 
looked up at Livingstone and said, " They starved us : and 
you tell us to cook food for ourselves : where do you come 

It seems that Mambame gave Livingstone notice that 
a large slave-party was coming, and would reach his village 
that day. * * * The party arrived. Livingstone at 
once recognized amongst the drivers a slaver whom he had 
known at Tette, He took him by the wrist and said, 
" What are you doing here, killing people ? I shall kill you 
to-day." The man (Keturah) answered, "I do not kill; I 
am not making war ; I bought these people." Livingstone 
then inquired of the slaves. Two men said, " We were 
bought :" six said, " We were captured :" and several of the 
women said, " Our husbands and relatives were killed, and 
here we are." By this time some of Livingstone's people, 
(Makololo and others,) had begun to plunder the party and 
tear the clothing from the backs of the drivers. Keturah 
said, "May I have my gun again?" Livingstone said, 


" Yes, if I am satisfied about you :" he then added, " We 
will free these people," and began himself to cut their bonds 
and loose them. They were tied together as usual in gangs 
of two or three or five or six, by strong cords fastened to a 
cord round the neck, so that they can walk in Indian file 
along the path. Livingstone then explained to the late 
captives that they were free, that those who liked might go 
on to Tette, and those who liked might return home, or stay 
for the present under the protection of the English. Of 
course all stayed. All this time they were expressing grati- 
tude and respect in the native fashion, by a slow clapping of 
the hands. Livingstone told them to cook and eat, but 
they said, " These things have taken us by surprise ; we will 
eat jiresently." Some of the captives told us, that two 
women who had been trying to escape had been shot as an 
example, and that an infant who was too heavy to be carried 
by its mother-, along with the burden assigned to her, had 
its brains dashed out before her eyes to solve the difiiculty. 
There is something awful in being brought so near to the 
cruelties of which we have heard so much. 

The following day we proceeded and kept a look out as 
we walked, having heard that another party of slaves was 
a-head on its way to the Shire (that is, coming to meet us). 
About an hour after we started we found six captives, three 
women and three boys. The captors ran away and left them 
in our hands. 

* * * * * 

Yesterday we had a long march. We split our body in 
order to follow two paths, and on arriving at night at Man- 
gazi, we found that Waller and Charles Livingstone had 
surprised two Tette men, with four guns and six captives. 
The captives were free, the captors were bound. This made 
our number ninety-eight. The villains made their escape 
during the night, though guarded by five trusty men. 

To-day we came on to this place, known as Chibaba's, 
though Chibaba has died since Livingstone was here two 


jears ago. We learn here that the Ajawa are near us, per- 
haps five or ten. miles from this, in what the people here call 
considerable force, that yesterday they attacked and burned 
a village near this, and made captives, and that yesterday 
calico went up to them from men of Tette in our rear to 
buy captives. 

The Ajawa live on the south-west of Shirwa, about 100 
miles from this, but Livingstone heard when he was here 
before that they come over here to fight, and it seems that 
a few of them have settled in villages on this side of Shirwa. 
* * * * I ought to have said, that whereas our plan 
was to come up here to Chibaba's, where we are, and to 
Chinsunzi, who is the next chief in the neighbourhood, and 
with Livingstone's advice select a site near to some largish 
village, it was suggested when these eighty-four captives 
were rescued that we should plant oui'selves in some con- 
venient place with these people to begin with. Accordingly 
it is now under consideration where we shall settle. In the 
meantime we have left our ninety freed people at Soche's, 
under the care of Procter and Scudamore. 

July 20. This morning some light was thrown upon the 
question of our future settlement, by the chief of this village 
(Chigunda) asking how long Livingstone would stay in this 
country. He answered that he himself would go this month, 
but that some would stay altogether v ith our fi'eed people. 
Chigunda said, " Will they not stay here 1 All the chiefs 
around have fled before the Ajawa; Chinsunzi has hid him- 
self for fear. I only remain ; and I will not run away, if the 
English will stay with me." Livingstone said, " But there 
are so many people, and there may be more : and they will 
want gardens." Chigunda said, " There is plenty of room for 
them here." It was only last night that I determined to 
ask this man if he would like us to be near him with our 
freed people, and to be guided partly by his answer. The 
objections to this place are, that it is nearly twice as far 
fi-om the ship as the plain we selected on oui* way up, and 


does not seem so fertile and beantiful, or to have sucli facili- 
ties for water-power : but we have not seen enough of either 
to make a fair comparison. 

I ought to say a word about the principle of using force, 
and even firing, if necessary, upon the captors of these poor 
creatures, in order to free them. The objection lay chiefly 
in this, that having been sent out to this country to bring 
blessing and peace to the people, I could not reconcile it to 
myself to kill them even in self-defense: and I still think 
that if by any possibility the people of this land should 
attack us, to drive us away or to rob us, we ought not to 
kill our own sheep. But this is a different case. These are 
strangers from Tette and beyond Shirwa, coming to make 
war on our people and carry them off as slaves. This we 
must help them to resist by every means. Livingstone is 
right to go with loaded gun and free the poor slaves ; and 
there being so few English here, we are right, though clei'gy- 
men and preachers of the Gospel to go with him, and by 
our presence, and the sight of our guns, and their use, if 
necessary (which may God avert), to strengthen his hands 
in procuring the libei'ation of these people. When Kii'k 
went down last Thursday to the ship, where Rowley is, I 
wrote to Rowley to say, " Do as you think right your- 
self; but my advice is, that you volunteer to help Kirk by 
going armed in the boat or by staying armed on board, and 
use your gun, if necessary : but if you ai'e not required, be 
glad that you are sj)ared so painful a position. I intend to 
act on that principle here." I believe some will blame 
Livingstone, and more will blame me : but I can only act as 
I think right, after often using the Collect for the first 
Sunday after Epiphany and similar prayers. 


July 22. I take out my letter, not to detail the events 
of this day, for that would weary you ; but I will only say 
that being on our way towards the Ajawa, and meeting 
many persons running away from the war, we learned at one 


village that some Tette pecr^ile wlio had come up to buy 
captives yesterday, were on their return, with a great many 
slaves, and were close at hand : having got one or two 
natives to shew us where they were, we turned aside, and 
after two miles' march came upon them, freed more than forty 
captives, and took three Tette slavers prisoners. One of these 
says that he was sent by his master, and that the Govern- 
ment of Tette knew of his going. 


I am now writing with two groups of these freed people 
before me, dressed (elaborately, almost extravagantly, ac- 
cording to native ideas, having from one to two yards of 
white calico wrapped rovmd them) with the stuff intended 
by their captors to increase the nximber of miserables. In 
the middle of each group is a fire, with two or three black 
earthenware native pots, cooking porridge of fine white na- 
tive meal, almost as fine and white as flour, or pieces of 
goat-meat. This food was captured with them. On my 
right-hand are the three prisoners, their own necks now con- 
fined in the forked sticks we took from the captured men, of 

which I have made a rough sketch : a stick as thick as one's 
thigh, six or eight feet long, with a natural fork, and with 
an iron pin passing thi'ough in front of the neck. A man 
with such a thing on is very helpless. 

It will be seen from this narrative, that even before 
a settlement had been fixed upon, a character had been 
impressed upon the Mission party, which they had not 


contemplated at first. Thej had come to preach the 
Gospel, and to instruct and civilize the natives, and by 
indirect moral means to raise a protest against slave- 
taking and slave-selling : but now they stood before 
the country as slave-liberators, and it is manifest that 
this character would be in the eyes of the natives a 
very different one from that of mere preachers and 
teachers. I am not at all condemning the conduct of 
the party, nor do I see how Englishmen, situated as 
Dr Livingstone and the Bishop were, could very well 
have acted in a different way : but certainly it was a 
way which led the Mission party out of the intended 
track, and which if it promised greater usefulness, at 
the same time entailed greater responsibility. 

Moreover, the liberation of the slaves had an im- 
portant influence upon determining the settlement of 
the Missionaries. They had now a tribe, as it were, 
of their own ; the Bishop had become an African 
Chief, and he could settle down not as a visitor in a 
native village, but as the head of his own population, 
the father of his own family. This is the character in 
which we must henceforth view him ; and the mission- 
ary problem which was given him to solve was this, 
whether with a number of natives attached to him 
by the bonds of gratitude and affection, he could hold 
his position in the country, civilize and convert those 
brought into immediate contact with him and his party, 
and make the settlement a centre of light and freedom 
to the country round. 

Towards the end of July the missionaries settled 
themselves down at a spot called Magomero. The reader 


will see its position upon the map. The chief advantage 
of its situation seems to have been, that it is included 
by the bend of a river in such manner that by running a 
stockade across from bank to bank over the promontory, 
the settlement would become safe from any hostile 
attack. On the other hand, the sanitary circumstances 
of the place were not good ; it was low and covered with 
trees, so that the party found by sad experience that 
it did not secure for them that immunity from fever 
which they had been led to expect in the high land. 
It was also inconveniently distant from the river sta- 
tion, Chibisa's, — about 60 miles; this length of journey, 
up hill, with a bad road and no beasts of burden, was 
certainly a great drawback, and might have seemed 
to those, who did not know all the circumstances of the 
case, an objection which should have been fatal. How- 
ever, Magomero was chosen as the Mission Station, and 
there Dr Livingstone and his party left the missionaries 
while he pursued his own journey of exploration. 

The first consideration was the erection of huts for 
residences. The reader will see in the drawing opposite 
to this page the appearance of the settlement in its 
complete state. It was a matter of much labour, how- 
ever, for some months to bring things to a condition of 
such apparent comfort ; all laboured vigorously, none 
more so than the Bishop himself ; and, indeed, it seems 
wonderful how the missionary village could have been 
built so well and so speedily. 

But the erection of the village was not the only 
labour. A population of more than 100 had been 
thrown upon the hands of the missionaries by the 


emancipation of the slaves. These had to be provided 
for; many of them were women and children. The 
children must be educated ; and it was thought that in 
the absence of j^erfect communication with them by 
language, it would be well to attempt the foundation of 
their education by bodily discipline. Accordingly, under 
the direction of Mr Scudamore, they were drilled and 
taught the first lessons of order and submission to au- 
thority. One portion of the drill was amusing : the 
small regiment of boys were drawn up in line by the 
side of the river ; then at the word of command given, 
the whole body plunged into the water, no doubt with 
the best results. The women it was more difficult to 
deal with. The Bishop often sighed for the female 
part of the mission party, feeling that the presence 
amongst themselves of some Christian women was, un- 
der God, the only means of purifying the minds of the 
female portion of the Magomero heathen settlers. He 
sincerely hoped that this defect in the missionary staff 
would be corrected towards the end of the year, when 
Dr Livingstone had arranged, having returned from his 
own journey of discovery, to descend the river in the 
Pioneer, and bring up the first party of ladies who were 
to meet him by appointment at Kongone. 

I shall presently give a more full account of the 
peaceful and happy occupations of Magomero, as de- 
scribed by the Bishop himself Indeed, I may say here, 
that the life of the missionaries appears to have been 
most peaceful and most happy : in one of his letters 
the Bishop declares with most affectionate earnestness, 
that he believes there never was a man so fortunate 


in his fellow-workers as himself, and they on their 
part appear to have felt to the full extent that personal 
influence of Mackenzie's character, and that warm love 
towards himself, of which I have had occasion to speak 
in a former part of this memoir, I would willingly 
dwell only on this portion of the mission work, but 
unfortunately it is necessary at once to describe events 
which were of a different kind, — events which I will 
endeavour to describe simply and fairly, and then leave 
the reader to form his own candid judgment concerning 

The reader has seen that the principles, upon which 
the missionaries took up their position at Magomero, 
were of necessity affected by the liberation of the 
captives on their way thither. The emancij)ation not 
only surrounded them with a native population attached 
to them by a strong bond of interest, and threw an un- 
expected responsibility upon the Mission, but (as I 
have already observed,) it published the advent of 
the missionaries, to the apprehension of the natives, 
as an engagement to protect the weak against the 
strong, and to defend the friendly tribes against their 
slave-hunting neighbours. I do not intend to assert 
that Dr Livingstone, in liberating the captives, or 
the missionaries in co-operating with him, at all de- 
sired to pledge themselves to a war against slave- 
hunters; it would clearly have been most impolitic 
and unwise and unsuitable to do this ; but I think it 
cannot admit of a doubt, that the interpretation which 
would be put by the natives upon the first acts of 
emancipation would be something of this kind — " here 


are men who will not permit slave-dealing to be carried 
on : they have power and will on their side : hence- 
forth, if we want help, we shall know where to seek it." 

Dr Livingstone evidently perceived that such an 
interpretation was possible, and of course he equally 
perceived that it was an interpretation, the fallacy of 
which could not be demonstrated too soon. Accord- 
ingly, when he took his leave of the missionary party at 
Magomero, at the end of July, he warned them against 
taking any part in defending the Mang-anja tribes 
against the Ajawa : he said, they must expect to have 
constant applications for help, but they must not 
yield to them. Applications, as he had predicted, soon 
arrived from various quarters, all in most urgent terms 
stating that the enemy was close at hand, and that they 
expec1:ed to be destroyed in a day or two. These stories 
the Bishop and his party did not wholly believe ; in- 
deed, there were inconsistencies in the accounts which 
made it impossible to give credence to them all. Never- 
theless, they found it painful to be compelled to turn a 
deaf ear daily to men, who told them that their wives 
and children were sleeping in the bush, and that no one 
dared to cultivate the ground for fear of being seized 
and sold into slavery. 

At length a more formal application was made. On 
August 7 ambassadors came from Ghinsunzi and Kan- 
komba, the two greatest chiefs in the country, to inquire 
whether they might themselves come and state their 
case and ask for help. To this application the Bishop 
did not think it right to say no ; and accordingly, on 
August 9 the two chiefs arrived, with about one hundred 


attendants. The mission party was strengthened by 
two ojfficers of the Pioneer, and altogether mustered 
ten white and three black. 

Before admitting the chiefs to a conference, the 
Bishop debated with his friends the general question, 
Could they, under any circumstances, entertain the pe- 
tition ? or must they at once give a refusal, as they had 
hitherto done? 

The answer to these questions was based upon two 
principles. In the first place, the missionaries con- 
sidered that had they been an ordinary body of English 
Christians settling amongst the Mang-anja as friends 
and neighbours, and had these friends and neighbours 
been in danger from a fierce enemy, who would destroy 
the strong men and sell the rest into slavery, they, the 
English Christians, would be justified in putting them- 
selves at the head of the Mang-anja, and so giving 
them their support against an. enemy, otherwise in- 
vincible. But, secondly, they concluded, and that with- 
out a dissentient voice, that if the circumstances were 
such as to make it their duty, regarded simply as 
English Christians, to head their Mang anja friends, 
there was nothing in the fact of the clerical character 
of the party to annul the duty. No doubt, they argued, 
such work is best left to lay hands, as it would be in 
a civilized country ; but so also in a civilized country 
a clergyman would not build his own parsonage, nor 
perform a number of duties which must fall upon 
missionaries in a wild country like central Africa : and 
if it should be said, that no clergyman should be en- 
gaged in shedding human blood, it might be replied that 


neither should any Christian be so engaged ; but as 
there are conditions which render scenes of bloodshed 
the right scenes for Christian duty, so there may be 
conditions which render such scenes not unsuitable 
even for a Bishop and his clergy. 

These considerations led the missionaries to agree 
not to give a decided negative to the application from 
the Mang-anja. It may be open to doubt whether the 
conclusion to which they came was the wisest and best : 
of course the natural tendency of the minds of Chris- 
tians at home, removed from the actual scene of opera- 
tions, and enabled to contemplate it upon abstract 
principles, is to condemn the conclusion as unsound ; 
and it may be added, on this side of the argument, that 
Dr Livingstone had himself warned the missionaries 
that they would receive applications, and that they 
must not attend to them. But, on the other hand, 
I think that we are bound to regard with great re- 
spect a conclusion arrived at on the spot, by men whose 
every feeling would draw them away from the con- 
clusion to which their judgment brought them, and in 
the soundness of which (as will be seen hereafter) 
Dr Livingstone ultimately expressed his belief. I am 
certain that no person who was acquainted with Bishop 
Mackenzie would believe, that anything less than a 
very strong conviction of the duty and necessity of 
assisting their friends would have induced him to adopt 
a course of conduct, from which his gentle heart would 
shrink ; and I shall be much disappointed if those who 
know him only through the medium of this memoir, 
have not gained suflEicient confidence in him to adopt 


the same view. We have seen ah'eady, that in the first 
colHsion with slave-takers he anticipated much blame 
for his conduct from friends at home, but he counted 
the cost, and believed that he was " doing right ; and 
in the present instance, he must still more surely have 
seen that his conduct would be severely criticized ; the 
ground was less clear, the responsibility was greater ; 
yet, with all this before him, he considered that it 
would be unworthy of the place which they had as- 
sumed amongst the friendly tribes, if they should stand 
by as idle spectators of the destruction of their friends. 
He again counted the cost, and did what he believed 
to be his duty ; I would ask, therefore, at the hands 
of the reader, for one so good and gentle, placed in 
such strange and painful circumstances, a kindly and 
considerate judgment. 

There was one point which does not seem to have 
entered into the calculations of the Bishop and his 
friends, but which was certainly worthy of consider- 
ation, as the event proved : — I mean the real relations 
in which the Mang-anja tribes stood to the Ajawa. 
The missionaries seem to have assumed that the dis- 
trict in which they were settled Avas Mang-anja ground, 
that the Ajawa ground was at a distance from them, 
and that the incursion of the Ajawa, which was now 
causing so much terror, wa§ (as it were) an accidental 
raid, which might be checked by showing a firm front, 
and would then subside and leave the Mang-anja in 
peace. It was clearly impossible that they could be 
for ever fighting native battles ; and if the ground 
upon which they had fixed themselves were such as 



could be held only by such a course, then it would 
be obvious that the ground was unfit for missionary 
work. Now the truth appeared to be, though the 
missionaries were not aware of it at the time, that 
they had made their settlement at Magomero just at 
the time of the approach of a more powerful tribe : 
the Ajawa attack was not a casual outbreak of a 
stationary people, but the indication of an aggressive 
policy on the part of a race who felt themselves to be 
stronger than the present occupiers of the country. 
This process of conquest, of the possession of weaker 
tribes by more powerful, has, as we well know, been 
going on from the beginning ; it is, as it were, a law 
of the world's progress, and though the process may 
be productive of much misery, and may be a very 
painful spectacle for Christian eyes, and may bring to 
mind the thought that the whole creation groaneth and 
travaileth in pain, still it is one against which it is 
useless to contend ; and it is after the healing of the 
wounds caused by this terrible natural surgery, that 
the missionary work of the Gospel of peace has its proper 
point of commencement. It was after the Saxons had con- 
quered their position in Britain, and become undisputed 
lords of the soil, that they were converted to the faith 
by Christian missionaries. Had Bishop Mackenzie and 
his party known at the time as much as they knew 
afterwards, they might possibly have come to the 
conclusion that Magomero was the wrong spot for their 
settlement, and they might have effected at once that 
migration which was carried out afterwards ; but if 
they were to hold their position in the neighbourhood of 


the Ajawa tribes, I think that nothing would have 
persuaded them that any line of policy was feasible 
other than that which they adopted. 

But to return to our story. Having come to the 
conclusion which has been above explained, the mis- 
sionaries went and received the petition of the chiefs. 
They declined to give them an immediate answer ; but 
explained that some of their party had just come from 
the vessel at Chibisa's, and were weary with their 
journey, so that it would be necessary to defer their 
final answer till Monday. Meanwhile, however, they 
wished to ask the chiefs a few questions. Would the 
Mang-anja people join together, if the missionaries 
headed them ? Yes. Who would join ? Chinsunzi, 
Kankomba, and some ten or twelve subordinate persons, 
in lively speeches, expressed their willingness. How 
many followers could they bring? Many more than 
were there present. Had they any guns ? Yes, they 
had some. 

On Saturday night, the missionaries discussed the 
answer which they should finally give ; and they de- 
termined to go. But in coming to this determination, 
it was necessary to have some settlement of the terms 
on which they should assist the Mang-anja ; they were 
to help these men against those who would take them 
and sell them as slaves ; but how if the Mang-anja 
should indulge in slave-dealing themselves, as doubt- 
less they had done in former times? There was no 
native law against it, and custom was in its favour : 
would it not be a grand step in the missionary work, 
if the assistance given to the Mang-anja against their 



euemies could be made the occasion for enacting a law 
against slave-taking amongst themselves ? This seemed 
to be the right basis for the defensive alliance ; ac- 
cordingly, on Monday, when the chiefs came for their 
final answer, the Bishop said to them, "We will head 
you against the Ajawa on certain terms : 

I. The captives in the hands of the Ajawa are to 
be set free. No one shall claim them as his. They 
shall go where they please. 

II. You will all promise not to buy or sell men 
any more. 

III. You will all promise to join in punishing any 
chief who sells men. 

IV. If any persons come to buy men, you will not 
let them stay, but will drive them away, and tell us." 

To these conditions the chiefs agreed ; to the second 
they replied that they never did such a thing, but the 
Bishop told them not to deny it, but to promise for the 
future ; to the third Kankomba declared that if he ever 
found any one selling men, he would bind him. The 
chiefs having agreed, the Bishop invited all those who 
would promise to stand up : they all stood up : and so 
the alliance was made. The natives applauded the 
result with three slow united deep-sounding claps of 
the hands. 

On August 13, the Bishop and his party arrived 
at Chinsunzi's, but not sufficiently early to see where 
the hostile Ajawa were situated. Soon after six o'clock 
the next morning they started, followed by a large 
body of natives, probably nearly a thousand. In about 
two hours they came in sight of the Ajawa villages. 


It was determined that before anything else was done, 
a parley should be attempted by two of the English 
going unarmed towards the Ajawa camp, and requesting 
an interview with the chiefs, also unarmed. The Bishop 
himself, with Mr Waller, undertook this task ; they 
were accompanied by Charles Thomas, one of the Cape- 
town men, and by one of the Mang-anja : this arrange- 
ment was necessary, inasmuch as the Bishop was com- 
pelled to speak in English, which was translated into 
Makao, his own language, by Charles, and so made in- 
telligible to the Mang-anja man, who finally acted as 
interpreter to the Ajawa. 

The terms proposed to the Ajawa were as follows : 

I. They must liberate all their captives. 

II. They must give up all Tette men and others, 
who might be with them to buy slaves. 

III. They must give up all their guns, and go right 
away out of the country. 

It was hardly expected that these terms would be 
accepted, but it was thought right to offer them. The 
parley turned out to be a more dangerous affair than 
was anticipated : the Bishop and his small unarmed party 
went somewhat rashly (as it would seem) out of sight 
of their friends, and had an interview with half a dozen 
of the Ajawa, who were armed with bows and arrows, 
and one with a gun : indeed, as Charles Thomas after- 
wards informed the Bishop, they only escaped with 
their lives by the fact of the parleying party disobeying 
orders, which were shouted to them from head-quarters, 
to fire upon them at once. The result was nothing : 
when the Ajawa heard that the Bishop and his friends 


were English, tliey said, "We do not want to have 
anything to do with the EngHsh ; they help the Mang- 
anja against us." 

Having performed their perilous task, the parleying 
party retired, first walking, and then at length, when 
the thought of a musket-ball in their rear had had time 
(as the Bishop expresses it) to produce in their legs a 
sufficient amount of nervous irritation, running. 

It was now clear that the hostile measures must pro- 
ceed. Before the parley above described, the Bishop 
with his friends and Mang-anja allies had gained a com- 
manding situation, overlooking the Ajawa encampment ; 
soon after ten they were marching down the hill under 
the direction of Mr Waller, to whom the Bishop had 
wisely given the chief command. The result of the 
conflict appears never to have been doubtful ; the few 
English were as a host on the side of the Mang-anja, 
who, though inferior to the Ajawa when left to them- 
selves, fought with sufficient courage under English 
auspices. In one hour the victory was gained ; but 
it was more than three before the affau- was entirely 
over, and the victorious party brought back from the 

It must have been a very painful day for Bishop 
Mackenzie. War, in its most civilized form, is suffi- 
ciently revolting to gentle minds ; but the war of bar- 
barous people is utterly horrible, and the Bishop found 
that he had the double work of assisting the oppressed 
against the oppressors, and then of restraining the 
savage zeal of the oppressed in their flush of victory. 

When the victory was complete, and the Mang-anja 


restrained from pursuit, other cares opened upon the 
missionaries. It was necessary to see that the regula- 
tions were enforced respecting the captives : the Bishop 
had given assistance on certain terms ; he was bound to 
see that those terms were fulfilled. A number of 
captives who were in the hands of the Ajawa were 
taken in charge by the Bishop, while others of the 
party led back the body of natives who had gone to 
the war. 

It was a weary march home ; many were foot-sore, 
many leg-sore. On the way a touching incident took 
place. Passing through a deserted village, the Bishop 
observed a httle boy, looking very ill, sitting in the 
door of a hut. He desired a man to take the child up, 
and bring him along with the party : the man objected, 
saying that the child was sickly, and that it was of no 
use to take him. The Bishop, however, insisted, and 
the child was carried as he had desired. When they 
got to Chinsunzi's, the village in which they were to halt 
for the night, the child was deadly cold : the Bishop 
took him into his own hut, wrapped him in a blan- 
ket, and tried, though in vain, to administer some 
brandy : he lay by the Bishop's side all night : in the 
course of it brandy was tried again, but with no better 
success. In the morning the child died : the Bishop 
had baptized him the evening before, giving him the 
name of Charles Henry : he was buried in a place 
assigned by the chief, the English funeral service being 
read over his remains. 

On the evening of the engagement they counted 
eighty women and children of rescued captives. Next 


day, the chiefs of the allied army met, and the Bishop 
reminded them of the conditions of the alliance, namely, 
that all rescued captives should be allowed to go where 
they pleased. These were separated from the captured 
Ajawa, and each woman was allowed to name some 
Mang-anja man with whom she wished to go, he 
promising to be kind to her, and not to sell her. All 
were disposed of on these terms, which seemed to give 
general satisfaction ; the missionaries alone felt a little 
disappointed, that after the part they had taken in 
the rescue, none cared to come with them and settle 
at Magomero. The Ajawa women and children had not 
been included in the treaty ; but these the mission- 
aries took under their own charge, rightly considering 
that it would be impossible to entrust them to the 
tender mercies of the Mang-anja, even with a promise 
of good behaviour towards them. They also took the 
Mang-anja orphan children who were too young to 
choose for themselves. They then told the Mang-anja 
people, that the Ajawa having been driven away, it 
behoved them to work diligently in their fields, lest a 
famine should come upon the land. 

The adjudication lasted four hours, and was veiy 
laborious. Then came the burial of the little boy al- 
ready mentioned, and then the march home. They 
started at about tAvo P.M. The march was very weari- 
some, and was still further complicated by rain. The 
Bishop would not leave his charge, and many of them 
were not more than ten years old. It seemed likely that 
they would have to spend another night upon the road, 
and there was no village in which to shelter ; happily. 


some of the Mang-anja came up, and, at the Bishop's 
instigation, consented to carry some of the Httle ones. 
He himself set the example, and walked into Magomero 
at eight o'clock in the evening, with a little girl on his 
back, amid three cheers from those of the party who 
had already returned. Charles Thomas remained to 
bring up the rear, and did not reach home till half- 
past nine. This man had been out for fifteen hours, 
without sitting down and without eating, yet never 
grumbling or complaining of his position, but rejoicing 
in the opportunity of doing something for people, with 
whom, as a rescued slave himself, he knew so well how 
to sympathise. As they walked home together, the 
Bishop said to him, " Charles, it is wonderful those 
men did not fire on us this morning, when we asked 
them to send the chief to a parley." He said, " Yes, 
sir, I have been thinking that it was God that pro- 
tected us." 

This expedition added about forty to the population 
at Magomero, dependent upon the missionaries ; it 
having been no less than 111 previously. Here was a 
serious increase of responsibility ; but th^ Bishop looked 
upon it with his usual cheerful hopefulness. Speaking 
of the general results of the expedition, he says, " The 
results are, that we have freed at least forty (probably 
three or four times as many) captives who were in the 
Ajawa camp, ready to be sold into slavery to men 
from Tette, who were in the camp at the very time : 
and, on the other hand, we have captured about forty 
(perhaps many more) of the Ajawa, but have brought 
them not into slavery, but into more perfect freedom, 


and besides, brought them within hearing of the Gos- 
pel, which we hope soon to be able to preach to them. 
Then we have given peace and security, which I trust 
will be lasting, to a large tract of country, which was 
gradually melting away into a desert, as the flames 
of Ajawa war spread across it ; and we have given, I 
trust, a decisive second blow to the slave-trade in these 
parts, — Livingstone having given the first. We have 
also got the chiefs (at least the most influential in 
these parts) to agree to abstain from and abolish the 
buying and selling of people, and have made it legiti- 
mate for those who hate such traffic to use force to 
prevent it ; and I believe that these results, combined 
with the steady influence of Christian teaching and 
example, and the introduction of legitimate trade, will 
soon make slavery unknown here, at one of its freely 
flowing sources." 

" But if," he continues, " the stream is to be dried up, 
it is not enough to dry up one of its springs. We cannot 
at present exercise an influence to much effect beyond 
thirty or forty miles on every side. There is an opening 
for other efforts of the same kind as ours. In a year 
or two I shall hope to have split up all the men I 
have, or expect, so as to cover a wider extent of country 
than I have just named, and then I shall be com- 
pelled to call on you at home to make another great 
effort, and send us out further reinforcements. I speak 
of this at once, that you may be prepared for the 
appeal when it comes. In the mean time, may God 
bless our efforts here, and give us peace, that we may 
learn the language and the habits of this people, and 


may proceed with the moral and religious training of 
those whom God may put within our reach." 

Having done what they deemed right for the pro- 
tection of their friendly neighbours, and for the re- 
pression of slave-hunting, the missionaries now hoped 
to be able to give their undivided attention to home 
work at Magomero. I will here introduce a description 
of their daily life, as given by the Bishop, in a letter to 
his sister in Scotland : the letter is the continuation of 
that which was partly given in the preceding chapter : it 
was the Bishop's habit to commence letters to his friends, 
and then add to them from time to time, after the 
manner of a journal : hence it is, that in the present 
instance the date of the latter part is considerably later 
than the period at which we have now arrived : but 
as the subject is one, I have thought it well to intro- 
duce the whole in this place. 


{Continuation. ) 

Aug. 29. I have not said mucli to others of our do- 
mestic life. At 6 A.M. we are all called by the cook. The 
summons arouses us to vai'ied scenes. I wake to the con- 
sciousness of lying in a round hut, 9 feet in diameter and 
10 feet high in the middle, with the cheerful light of the 
breaking day twinkling through innumerable openings in 
its straw roof and walls. I am full length on a cork bed, 
which avoids all fear of damp, and weighs only seven pounds, 
with (don't be shocked) my clothes on, and a blanket oyer 
my legs, another round my shoulders and head. The 


upper end of my bed resting on my carpet-bag makes my 

On the other side of the but is "Waller, nearly a fac- 
simile of myself in bis circumstances. Tbe floor is strewn 
Tvitb dry grass (grass bere is about five feet long), and in tbe 
strip between our beds is a stick, about two feet bigb, on 
tbe top of wbicb is tbe oil-lamp whicb bas been in use tbe 
night before. Between me and tbe round side of tbe but is 
a deal-box, containing a few rockets and spare ammunition j 
above my head my double-barrelled gun loaded ; a revolver 
also loaded. Above all, a shelf, made by thrusting the ends 
of bamboos through the roof at both ends, on which are my 
Bible, Christian Tear, Thomas a Kempis, Wordsworth's 
New Testament, Trench, and one or two others. 

After taking advantage of the quiet for my prayer, I get 
up, put on my shoes and cap, fold up my blankets, roll up 
my bed, take my towel, and go to bathe and wash in the river. 
By the time I come back, Charles has tidied the hut, and is 
probably sweeping the carpet, that is, stroking the grass 
smooth with a stick, I have now about twenty minutes or 
half-an-hour to read quietly before our morning prayers, the 
full Church service, at seven : every one attends once a 
day : most of us twice. Then there is a quarter of an 
hour before breakfast : perhaps I look up some one of our 
party who is ill : for it is unusual for all our thirteen to be 
well at once, so far as our present experience goes. Break- 
fast consists of meat, (fowls or goat), vegetables, (yam or 
sweet potatoes, beans or peas,) and porridge of groiind Indian 
corn. Once or twice a week we have a loaf. We drink 
cofiee or tea, and have one goat in milk. Our plates and 
cups belong to a canteen for six persons, bought in London. 
They are iron, enamelled inside, and don't break. During 
our breakfast Charles has been gathering the men and boys 
together. The list is called over as they stand in a ring, 
and answer to their names "Kuno," [here). Then I tell 
them what work they have to do, and make any address 


tliroiigli William whicli may be required. By tliis time the 
men have finished breakfast, and we get to work about 9.30. 
I have 75 men and boys on my list, of whom about 30 or 
35 may be employed, the rest being too small, or there being 
no tools for them. These latter then have their breakfast. 
Two w-omen have been appointed to receive every night the 
next day's food for two lots of little ones, and to give them 
their breakfast about 10, and tbeir supper about 5. It con- 
sists of porridge, and sometimes a few beans to give it a 
taste. We have no plates or spoons for them; we shall 
acquire that luxury, I hope, soon. They sit down in a row, 
and a fat motherly woman, with an infant on her back (which 
she adopted, because it had no mother), gives to each 
a handful. They sit and eat well pleased, and when each 
has had some, she gives the remainder among them as extra 
mouthfuls. This is more orderly than at first, when there 
was always a scramble for every meal, like one for nuts at 
a school-feast. 

Then the work of the day proceeds till one. One doctors 
the sick and sore. One buys the food which comes in 
daily, baskets of meal, or bunches of corn-cobs, or nuts, 
or beans, or huge yam-roots, some weighing fifty pounds : 
or goats are led in, or fowls hung upon sticks or in the 
hand; and for these we usually give white calico, some- 
times coloured, or beads. One drills the boys; part of their 
drilling consisting in being marched into the river. The 
order, "Off clouts," being by most obeyed in laughter, 
by one or two with slow hand and mournful face. Some 
work at our new house, which is within ten days of com- 

We dine at 1, and amuse ourselves till 3. Dinner is a 
facsimile of breakfast, only that out of the same cups we 
drink native beer, here called '■ moa," instead of tea or coffee. 
From 3 to 5 we go to work again. The sun sets near 6, jiist 
now : in the longest days it will never be quite so late as 
half-past six. We have tea with porridge, and nuts or eggs; 


and at about half-past seven prayers. Soon after tlaat we 
part for the night. 

Saturdays and Saints' days are half-holidays. 

One of the curious customs of this country is their way 
of giving presents. They always expect to receive a present 
of at least equal value in return. One morning a woman 
brought us three large baskets of beer, each as heavy as a 
person could carry : we did not want so much : it would 
spoil before we could drink it : but we did not like to refuse 
it, lest she should be offended. So we sent her just what 
we thought its value. She considered our present too small, 
and took away the largest basket, saying we had not given 

Oct. 22. I take up my pen, that there may not be too 
long intervals between my paragraphs. 


Dr Mellor, the medical man of the Pioneer, is here on 
a visit, having leave of absence with two of the men, to re- 
cruit their health by change of air. 

I am so longing for our ladies to come up. It is not 
a week since we got an increase of fifty people, only ten 
boys and no men. Here is more work for them. It is im- 
possible for us men to do what I trust God wUl do by them. 
The women are some of them wild and rude, and some of 
them worse, but I hope the influence of our ladies will tell 
upon them. 

There is one girl in whom I feel great interest. She is 
deaf and dumb. The rest treat her kindly, but her poor 
mind must be sadly wearied by the want of communication 
with others. She is ten years old, good-tempered, and obe- 
dient whenever she knows what you want her to do. When 
she sees me passing she claps her hands together. One day 
I wanted to fold up a gi'eat sheet, and made her take one 
end, just as a table-cloth is folded : she watched what I did. 


and did the same, as neatly as slie conld, with the greatest 
gravity. Four or five times I have brought her into my 
hut, and made her sit at the door while I shewed her a 
picture. I took one of the large coloured Scripture-prints, 
the raising of the Shunammite's son : she pointed to some 
limb, and then pointed to the same part of herself. I have 
followed this hint, and each time we have gone through 
every part. We are keeping patiently to the one picture. 
There are four figures, which is variety enough. From the 
earnestness with which she does this I am sure it is a plea- 
sure to her, as indeed it must be, breaking in on the vacuity 
of her mind. I do not know any one of my charge with so 
gentle, manageable and amiable disposition; and that is bet- 
ter than all brightness of intellect, or keenness of perception. 
I do not know that she ever had a name; but the one by 
which she commonly goes is Kana nena, "she cannot speak." 
Our people are singing and dancing outside the hut ; not 
the fierce dances of the Zulus, nor with their deep, panting 
noises. I do not know that the Mang-anja have any war- 
dance; it is more like the dance "all round the hawthorn- 
bush," or such simple games as they have at school-feasts. 
The music consists of three or four drums, played with great 
vigour- and perfect time, while the dancers move slowly 
round in a ring. Sometimes there is a rapid movement of 
the feet, like that in a hornpipe, only each step is not more 
than an inch or two, while the body is nearly still, remind- 
ing one of the graceful motion of a good skater. Sometimes 
one or more make a diversion into the space within, turning 
once I'ound rapidly and moving the arms over the head, and 
all this time they sing a strain consisting of but few notes, 
with clapping of hands in time, and the sound of cymbals, 
which are fastened, I think, to the ankles of one of the 

October 28. We have jokes among us, notwithstanding 
the seriousness of our profession. Last Saturday night there 
was very little to eat at tea. There was no porridge, because 


the people had not brought any meal for sale all day. So 
I went out, got some heads of chimanga (mealies, under 
another name), had them shelled, ground them myself in 
the mill, ordered some water to be boiled, made some 
porridge, and reappeared in twenty minutes with the dish. 
They did not know what I had gone for, and my dish was 
highly praised : it was not quite enough boiled; but by com- 
mon consent we use now meal from our own mill, instead 
of the ufa or meal, which the people bring. 

The quiet of tlie missionary station was not secured 
by the successful expedition against the Ajawa, which 
has been described in this chapter. Reports soon be- 
gan to circulate of Ajawa incursions, and of the terror 
caused to the minds of the Mang-anja in the neigh- 
bourhood. These reports the Bishop did not feel inclined 
wholly to believe ; he knew the unfortunate readiness 
of the natives to lie if it suited their purpose, and he 
found so much inconsistency in the tales told concerning 
Ajawa atrocities, that he perceived it was impossible 
to believe everything, and therefore doubted how much 
was true, or whether there was any truth in the tales 
at alL Accordingly, he determined to go and see for 
himself, and started on September 9, with Mr Scuda- 
more, three Makololo, William, (the Cape Town man,) 
as interpreter, and some guides, to reconnoitre. The 
application for help in this case had come from a certain 
chief, named Bawi, who represented that the Ajawa 
were burning his villages, murdering his men, and 
taking the women and children into captivity. They 
very soon found that the doings of the Ajawa had 
been much exaggerated ; and they quarrelled with 


their frieud Bawi, who turned sulky because the Bishop 
refused to go with him and his followers, and forthwith 
give battle to the enemy. The reconnoitring expedition 
was continued several days, during which, notwith- 
standing the exaggerations referred to, they saw abun- 
dant evidence that an enemy was in the neighbourhood, 
\dllages burnt, others deserted, and the inhabitants of 
those not deserted manifestly living in daily terror of 
an attack from an enemy whom they dared not face. 
On one occasion, they fell in with some of the Ajawa 
foe, and endeavoured to catch one or two of them, in 
order that they might send a message to the rest, and 
warn them to mend their manners or depart ; but the 
Ajawa were too fleet for them. William, the inter- 
preter, who suggested this scheme, described the effect 
which he hoped to produce in a very amusing manner. 
"One will say, I saw him myself! another, I was in his 
hands ! they will say, there were a great many of them, 
and all had guns : the news will spread, just like a 
newspaper." However, William's plan could not be 
carried out, and the Bishop had to return home with 
the general result of knowing that the Ajawa were 
near, but not knowing their numbers or exact situation, 
and of being pestered with applications to go once 
more at the head of the friendly tribes, and endeavour 
to clear the country finally of the lawless and cruel 

Soon after the return to Magomero, a messenger 
came to say that two days after the Bishop and his 
party had been at the village of the chief Nampeko, 
the Ajawa had come down and burnt it. A discussion 



was held as to what should be done, and it was deter- 
mined to go and drive the marauders away. The 
chiefs in the neighbourhood were called together, and 
the injured man himself confirmed the account of the 
destruction of his village. Conditions were made con- 
cerning the freeing of captives, and putting a stop to 
the slave-trade, as on the former occasion, and the ar- 
rangements were nearly complete, when something was 
said about meeting at the chief's village. What village ? 
" The village in which you slept," was the reply. The 
Bishop asked, " Is it not burned then ?" " No." " Did 
you lie then, when you said it was burned ?" To 
wliich the chief replied, with a smile upon his face, " I 
lied." "I am not," writes the Bishop, "naturally ex- 
citable, but I have once or twice since I came here 
thought it necessary to make a demonstration. I 
shook my fist in his face, and said, 'If a dog could 
do as you have done, I should kick it. I cannot speak 
to you any more to-day.' Very soon, after a few mo- 
ments' consultation, I said I could not go to fight at 
all ; that I wanted them to feel how bad a thing it 
is to lie." 

However, after a fortnight, the chiefs began to come 
asrain. He who had told the lie about his village 
expressed his sorrow ; he promised to tell truth for the 
future, and began by confessing that they had seen 
nothing of the Ajawa since the Bishop's visit : still he 
represented that they were in constant fear. The Bishop 
thought that the purpose of keeping the Ajawa at 
peace might be effected by sending them a message, 
to say that if they attacked the Mang-anja, they would 

r LAKE Sill iw,. mrn Mr. CmiiAi.< fn m 


certainly be punished: none of the Mang-anja folks 
however could be found courageous enough to carry 
the message ; in fact, the vices of cowardice and lying 
seemed in their case, as in many others, to go closely 
coupled together. 

What was to be done ? The Bishop was extremely 
anxious to avoid further warlike proceedings ; but soon 
after, he received reliable information of villages burned 
in the neighbourhood ; he felt that such marauding 
habits must be stopped, and therefore he again headed 
a party against the Ajawa trespassers. I shall not give 
this expedition in so much detail as the former ; in fact, 
there was little or no actual fighting ; the Ajawa re- 
treated at once at the approach of the Mang-anja 
with their English allies. Here is the Bishop's own 

" October 17. Noon. We got away at six : which was 
a wonderful thing, as loading more than thirty Mang- 
anja guns took an hour, I suppose. We walked slowly 
for nearly four hours, with a large body of Mang-anja, 
and a weak force of English. Dr Mellor was what 
would be called in England quite unfit for anything. 
Two others of our party were far from well. So that 
it seemed almost rashness to go to war in such a state ; 
but it would not have been easy to put off the fight, 
and I trusted partly to the influence of our presence, 
but I trusted more in the verse which I repeated to 
myself several times, 'The battle is the Lord's, and He 
is the governor among the people.' 

" October 18. Friday evening. (On the banks of 
Shirwa.) As on former occasions, we the Christians 



stood together to ask Him to direct all things accord- 
ing to His will. It was near ten when we found we 
were getting near. The Mang-anja kept running on 
before, and on the smallest alarm falling back. One 
time, when we came to the edge of the river, close to 
the Ajawa, they all stopped and allowed Adams, who 
was the foremost Christian, to go on twenty or thirty 
yards alone, and only followed him when we came up. 
I asked two or three times for Nampeko, and was told 
that he was behind ; so he was, for I never saw him 
all day. It is unsatisfactory, acting in alliance with 
such people, on whom you can rely only for cowardice 
and falsehood. Adams, in the act of crossing the water, 
fired two shots at Ajawa, two of whom had guns. They 
immediately ran away, and this was all the opposition 
we met with : when we arrived, we found the huts 
empty, which we burned." 

The arrangements concerning the captives were 
carried out as on the former occasion ; the result was 
a still further addition to the population of Magomero. 
" This addition," says the Bishop, at the close of the 
letter in which he describes the expedition, "makes 
our number exceed two hundred. We might be tempted 
to fear about the supply of food : but we cannot re- 
fuse to take care of people who thus throw themselves 
upon us; and we trust that He, who has given us the 
charge of them, will give us the means." 

The reader has now before him the history of what 
may be called the Ajawa wars, in which Bishop Mac- 
kenzie and his party were engaged. His conduct has 
been severely criticized, as himself anticipated ; and 


of course, if we adopt the principle that under no con- 
ceivable circumstances can a minister of the Gospel be 
justified in taking up arms, his conduct must be con- 
demned. But I think it is very difficult to establish 
any such general principle ; and unless it be established 
beyond the possibility of a doubt, it is an ungracious 
thing for us in England to sit in judgment upon the 
conduct of men placed in such peculiar circumstances 
as were the missionaries of Magomero. Certainly it is 
a point to which great importance should be assigned, 
that these good and holy men, having weighed upon the 
spot all the responsibility of the course to which they 
were committing themselves, should have adopted the 
course unanimously. It is irrelevant to say that the 
measures adopted did not eventually succeed ; success 
was in God's hands ; and I have said before that there 
was an element in the case, of which the missionaries 
took no account, and which tended to make their policy 
a failure; I refer to the fact, that the Ajawa tribes were 
spreading over the country as a more powerful race, 
and that they were not merely mischievous neighbours 
who could be kept within their o^vn bounds by a little 
boldness. It is clear that Bishop Mackenzie's conduct 
can be condemned, only upon the general principle of 
the impropriety of war on the part of the missionaries 
under all circumstances ; and supposing this principle 
not conceded, it may well be asked whether the concep- 
tion of the missionary settlement as the head-quarters 
of a tribe of emancipated persons was not a very noble 
one, and whether the existence of such a settlement 
might not be the most effective means of preaching the 


kingdom of heaven. It would be very difficult, as 
missionaries always find it to be, to reach the intellect 
of the poor savages ; it would be very difficult even 
with all the facilities afforded by a thorough knowledge 
of their language, the vehicle of their thoughts ; it would 
be infinitely more difficult for preachers, whose powers of 
oral communication were so small as those of Bishop 
Mackenzie and his party must have long continued to 
be ; but suppose that the natives found amongst them 
a settlement of men emancipated by the missionaries, 
and knew that in this settlement truth was cultivated 
and brutality of all kinds discouraged, that in this settle- 
ment there was constant worship of God, and that the 
white men would not allow the black population under 
their government to be molested and alarmed, would 
not this be a practical preaching of the kingdom of God 
and of Christ, which the native mind could understand, 
and which would attract and move towards itself the 
native heart ? This seems to have been Bishop Mac- 
kenzie's conception : who will say that it was not a 
noble one ? 

I have said more than once, that if the missionaries 
had realized in the first instance the true relations of 
the Ajawa to the Mang-anja, they might possibly have 
come to a different conclusion with regard to the course 
to be pursued, when they were requested to defend one 
against the other. This statement seems to be justified 
by such a passage as the following, which I extract 
from a letter written to the Bishop of Cape Town in 
May, 1862, The letter was written in explanation of 
the reasons which induced the mission party subse- 


([uently to leave Magomero, and settle themselves at 
Chibisa's ; besides elucidating the point for which it is 
adduced, it will also confirm the statements made in 
this volume as to the unhealthy character of Magomero. 
" We had intended," writes Mr Procter, " to leave 
Magomero, and seek a new site somewhat nearer the 
Shire, among the hills, ever since our sad experience 
of the last rainy season, in which so many of our people 
died, and we suffered ourselves so much from sickness. 
The place lying low", and surrounded with thick vegeta- 
tion, had been j^ronounced decidedly unfit for our fur- 
ther habitation by Dickinson; and as soon as the 
Pioneer arrived with a fresh supply of cloth, to enable 
us to pay bearers, we had decided to make a removal. 
In the meantime, however, we heard that the Ajawa 
were again busy ravaging the country, in various par- 
ties, to the North-West of us; and applications for help 
against them kept coming in from several Mang-anja 
chiefs, who declared themselves to be sufferers from 
their incursions. I have not time to go into the many 
reasons for our constant refusals to li.sten to these 
requests ; but chiefl.y because we saw from our expe- 
rience of last year, that we had made a mistake in 
becominfj the warriors instead of the teachers of the 
Mang-anja, who, weak and cowardly, were learning to 
value us only because we could defend them, and 
because we were making enemies of a powerful tribe, 
or rather nation, who clearly must in time become mas- 
ters of all the JS^orth-West corner of the Mang-anja 
territory between Mount Zomba and the Shire. At last 
we determined to go and fight for the Mang-anja no 


more." This shews the views of the missionaries founded 
upon their experience ; at the same time it is right to 
add, that some persons well acquainted with the country 
have held, and still hold, that if Bishop Mackenzie's 
policy had been consistently carried out, the terrible 
devastation of the country, which afterwards took place, 
might very possibly have been prevented. This is a 
point, however, upon which it is unnecessary, perhaps 
it would be presumptuous, to express an opinion. 

There is one other point which I would ask the reader 
to bear in mind, in order that he may estimate fairly 
the conduct of the missionaries with regard to these Ajawa 
troubles. He must bear in mind, that although in the 
history they seem to occupy so large a space, yet in 
reality they occupied a very small portion of the time 
spent by Bishop Mackenzie at Magomero. One or two 
stirring days of warlike expedition make a great figure 
in a narrative, whereas ten times the number of days 
spent in the works of peace make little show. The 
reader therefore must not give too much weight to the 
Ajawa wars, as though the missionaries were always 
fighting, but rather regard the missionaries as given 
up to the peaceful and holy labours of Magomero, 
with the exception of some few days, in which, 
under an imperious and painful sense of duty, they 
assisted their Mang-anja friends against their Ajawa 

I have said that the conception of the kingdom of 
God, come among the poor natives of central Africa, in 
the form of a colony of emancipated blacks under the 
government of a white Christian Bishop and his clergy. 


was a very noble one ; the drawback was the difficulty 
which the Bishop felt, but which his strong faith in God 
enabled him to tolerate, of finding food for the people. 
Moreover, even if food should be forthcoming, the police 
regulations (if I may so call them) necessary to make 
the condition of Magomero healthful, would be difficult 
of execution. 

This difficulty of knowing how to deal with their 
friends was (as I apprehend) quite as formidable as that 
of dealing with their enemies : in fact, the colony grew 
too rapidly, and it seems inconceivable that a popu- 
lation such as that of the blacks at Magomero could 
be supported permanently, and that Magomero with 
such a population could be a suitable residence for 
white men. 

This is a question, however, which need not be fur- 
ther discussed now ; my purpose in the remarks which 
I have made is rather to restrain the reader from hasty 
condemnation of Bishop Mackenzie, and to suggest that 
the policy adopted by him was not wrong and bad in 
itself, might have been necessary, and may even now 
be blessed by God to the benefit of the oppressed 
Africans. If any corroboration of this view be required, 
it will be found in the following testimony from Dr 
Livingstone. The letter which I here produce, and 
which has been published before, was addressed to the 
late Sir Culling Eardley. It was written, as will be 
seen, long after the Ajawa troubles, and when the 
country had been reduced to famine and misery by 
those internal wars, which Bishop Mackenzie endea- 
voured to bring to an end. With this testimony from 


one so competent to form a judgment, I shall leave the 
case in the reader's hands. 

River Shiee, Jan. 23, 1863. 

I have just been visiting Bishop Mackenzie's grave. At 
first I tlioiiglit him wrong in fighting, but don't think so 
now. He defended liis 140 orphan children when there was 
no human arm besides to invoke. To fight even in self- 
defense must always be but a sad necessity ; but to sit still, 
and let bloodthirsty slave-hunters tear away those orphans 
who cleave to us for protection, must be sufiei'ing martyr- 
dom for our own folly. In coming up the Shire we have 
met fifteen dead bodies fioating down. The whole country 
on the east of the river is devastated by a half-caste Portu- 
guese, called Marianno, with about 1000 armed slaves. 
You would not credit the enormities of which this fellow 
has been guilty; the poor people have fled to the reedy 
banks of the river, and having left all their grain behind, 
famine and death (of which we are every now and then 
compelled to see sickening evidence) have followed as a mat- 
ter of course. The same evils have been produced higher 
up the river by the people of Tette, of whom the governor is 
the leader ; and besides those carried into slavery, an untold 
number perish of hunger. The Tette people put arms into 
the hands of the Ajawa, to be wielded against a tribe named 
Mang-anja. The passions of one body of blacks are em- 
ployed against another. Both suffer grievously. We have 
tried, and still try, to stop the evil at its origin in the Por- 
tuguese slave-hunter. The gi'eatest evil of all is, that this 
legalized system of slave-hunting has prevented the influences 
of Her Majesty's squadron being felt inland through mis- 
sionaries. On the west coast compai'ative quiet has been 
produced by the presence of men-of-war. About twenty 
missions have been established ; the means have been 
brought into play which the government hoped for, while 


here tlie only mission that has been tried is in danger of 
being worried out by slave-hnnting. On the side of the op- 
pressor there is power. Let us hope that ye, who have 
power with the Almighty, will let your prayers prevail on 
behalf of this wretched trodden-down country. 

With Christian salutations, I am, &C. 

David Livixgstoxe. 

That the Bishop's mind was not wholly absorbed 
in warlike matters during his residence at Magomero, 
will be seen from the following letter written to a very 
dear friend, whose name has already appeared several 
times in the course of this memoir, 


Magomero, Nor. 3, i86r. 

E. Long. 35" 35', S. Lat. 15" 35'. 
Dear Hopkins, 

I have been writing a good many letters through 
the week about what has been passing here, and what state 
we are in, till I am sick of it ; and this is Sunday — so I 
shall leave you to get your information about the mission 
from other sources, and return to the old days when we 
could chat in that inner room of yours at Catharine Hall. 
-;:- -;:- * * * 

On the whole my life here is most happy. There is 
everything to make it so, and you know I am not much 
given to moping: but just occasionally for an hour or so 
I get low, and can always trace it to my own fault, letting 
this lower world send up a mist to obscure the bright clear 
sunshine of God's loving presence, in which we might always 
live. It was in such a mood, a little, that I sat down to 
chat with you just now : but it has gone. I was thinking of 
you this morning. You will have forgotten a walk I had 
with you on the Ely road before my degree, when I said 


T thought sorrow and mourning need never be in this world : 
and you said you thought there was good cause for them. I 
was reading Archer Butler's Sermon on the daily imitation 
of Christ, in taking up our cross daily. How beautiful his 
sermons are ! 

I thought I had such a deal to say; but I am afraid 
I have got out of the habit of thinking lately : though by 
the bye it is a severe restriction which I laid on myself, not 
to allude to anything that is going on among us here. I 
wish we could meet, (or rather how nice it would be, for 
I do not wish it really,) and have a chat about everything. 
When I come back, shall I find you in Wisbeach still 1 I 
think I shall, and I hope I shall. There is always to me a 
great charm in the idea of an aged clergyman, in a parish in 
which he has been for thirty years, half of his people having 
known no other pastor, and loving and respecting him as he 
deserves, and better. To be sure my vision of such an old 
age was laid in a country parish, not too large to be worked 
with something like satisfaction, but the principle would be 
the same. Stop : I shall be late for evening prayers. 

Nov. 4. We are looking now for the return of Dr 
Livingstone from Nyassa. He has been gone more than 
three months : he was to be back about the middle of this 
month. So he may turn up any day. Yoii will hear by 
this same mail the news of this exploration of his, which 
we have not yet got. It will be interesting to you, but 
doubly so to us, as influencing ou.r movements and plans. 
I know now where I should like to plant our first branch- 
mission, supposing his discoveries do not aflfect the qiiestion, 
namely, at Nampeka's : but it is quite possible that what 
we may leai-n, as to our future route of communication with 
the sea, may affect the planting of the first branch. We have 
plenty of room here for setting down six or eight missions : 
in one or two places we know that the chief would welcome 
us : in others, I have no doubt he would ; but we have avoided 
asking too definitely, for fear of raising false hopes. I shall 


be able ia a week or two, I hope, to mature my ideas about 
the future, when I have seen Livingstone, and to write 
accordingly to the Committee. 

We have j ust got up the last part of our baggage from 
the landing-place. Charles, one of our Cape men, went 
away last Monday morning taking some twenty men from 
hence : he returned this morning, having these and about 
sixty-three more, each >vith a load of from forty to fifty 
pounds. Each is to be paid by a scarf about five feet by 
three, worth one shilling in England. So you see we get our 
things by luggage-train. This was rapid work : we took five 
days to come up ; and they have gone and come in six days. 

I told you I should not write you a missionary letter, 
and neither have I. So good bye. 

Youi's afi'ectionately, 

C. F. M. 

It will be seen, that at the period of writing the 
preceding letter, Bishop Mackenzie's mind was full of 
hope with regard to his work. The position of the mis- 
sion appeared to be pretty well established ; his policy, 
in shewing himself the active enemy of the slave trade 
and the energetic protector of those who trusted them- 
selves to his guardianship, appeared crowned with suc- 
cess ; and he looked forward to a system of missionary 
colonization, which should bring the whole neighbouring 
district under Christian influences. Meanwhile the 
work of Magomero went quietly on, and the chief draw- 
back was the growing sense of the unhealthiness of the 
place ; it was too low, too much surrounded by thick 
vegetation, and the uncleanly habits of the native popu- 
lation which the missionaries had gathered round them 
tended to make the habitation pestilential. I may state 


by way of confinnation, though the circumstance lies 
beyond the limit of Bishop Mackenzie's life, that about 
six months afterwards the missionaries found them- 
selves compelled to leave Magomero, and to seek another 

Nothing more, I think, need be said concerning this 
portion of Bishop Mackenzie's life. It is the portion 
which will be most canvassed ; by some, perhaps, it will 
be condemned. I have no right to dictate a verdict to 
the kindly hearted Christian reader, and I have already 
said all that I deem necessary in the way of defense. 
I shall conclude this chapter with some very energetic 
words written by Mr Waller, for which I would bespeak 
the attention which they deserve. " I do so hope and 
trust," says Mr Waller, " that the news of our doings 
with the Ajawas may get the shrewd and candid in- 
vestigation they require. To us it is palpable that it 
was perfectly right and necessary : whilst the end has 
been so blessed to us, in the love and respect gained 
from the fatherless, the child, and the widow, — ^the 
rescued human merchandise, for which we risked so 
much. The means were, and are, in our estimation, 
quite justifiable, — the helping those who had no friends, 
the trusting in God's strength to stay the most ac- 
cursed state of things I ever came across. Our ene- 
mies have found the nerve gone from their arm, and the 
blow cannot be struck at those, Avho they see come to 
do good. 'You came and helped us,' say chiefs from 
afar, reinstated in their villages, 'and we thank you.' 'We 
want to come and to live with you,' say the Ajawas. 
Who shall say we did wrong ? But we care not : some 


must cavil : we will forgive them. Six thousand miles 
requires a long and clear sight to scan facts and cir- 
cumstances. Far from the spot, far from the land that 
fills the slave ships, theirs may well be a cramped and 
one-sided view. Do not let us be run over roughshod. 
I know that there are heads and hearts in plenty to do 
battle for us." 



On the sixth of April, 1860, the second detachment 
of the mission party sailed from Plymouth. It con- 
sisted of the Eev. H. De Wint Burrup and his wife, 
Mr John Dickinson, M.B., the medical officer of the 
mission, John Andrew Blair, a printer, and Thomas 
Clarke, a tanner. They reached Cape Town on May 14, 
and were received by the Bishop and Mrs Gray with 
their accustomed kindness. The Admiral of the station, 
Sir Baldwin Walker, offered to send them to their 
destination in H.M.S. Gorgon and Penguin, in the 
latter of which Mr Dickinson proceeded at the end of 
May ; Mr Burrup, with the two mechanics, followed in 
the Gorgon on June 14 ; and Mrs Burrup remained 
at the Cape, to follow with Miss Mackenzie, when the 
mission arrangements should be reported as suitable for 
the arrival of ladies. 

Mr Burrup fell in with Mr Dickinson at Johanna, 
on August 3, and sailed with him for Mozambique, 
where they landed on August 9 ; Blair unfortunately 
was compelled to return to the Cape for the recovery 
of his health. At Mozambique they were detained 


for a fortnight, and in the middle of September ar- 
rived safely at Quilimane. The expedition from Quili- 
mane to Magomero deserves to be recorded in Mr 
Burrup's own words ; it was an expedition which was 
most successful, inasmuch as the party arrived safely 
at their journey's end, but unfortunate inasmuch as 
it tended to do away with the force of the lessons 
of caution, which Dr Livingstone and those who had 
had experience of African climate had endeavoured 
to impress upon the missionaries. " My cautions to 
the Bishoj)," wrote Dr Livingstone afterwards, "were 
unfortunately all nullified by Mr Burrup's wonderful 
feat." Here is his own account. 

We started from Quilimane on the 12th Oct. Mr Dick- 
inson had just been ill of fever, but was able to start. I 
had also felt an attack, but had taken medicine and would 
not lie by, and so, although weak, was able to look to things. 
We had two large river-boats and six canoes : one, Major 
Tito had to himself; and I, Dickinson, Clarke, and young 
Tito, were in the other. I should tell you that what is 
called the Quilimane river, named likewise the Mutu, is a 
large branch of the Zambesi, the bed of which is diy to the 
extent of about twelve miles in the dry season. It is a very 
fine river in itself, even when cut oflf from the Zambesi, be- 
caixse it has many fine streams which support it. We started 
laj) the Mutu, and used to land, sleep, breakfast, and dine at 
villages or huts. In one or two instances there are regular 
places for accommodation. Instead of going to the extreme 
point of the Mutu, we turned up one of its tributaries called 
the "Quar-quar." We landed from this river on Friday, the 
19th,'and had our baggage carried twelve miles to the Zam- 
besi by fifty-two bearers. This was our first African walk 
across country, and I assure you it was piping hot. Thanks 



to our kind friend Tito, we found a capital house ready for 
us close to the left bank of the glorious Zambesi. It cer- 
tainly had many inhabitants in the shape of a determined 
colony of cobras, one of which emerged from Dickinson's 
bedding one night just as he was unfolding it. We had an 
offer here from the Governor of Quilimane to escort us up 
to Livingstone, as he was going with his Portuguese and 
native soldiers after a man who does not choose to own 
the Portuguese authority. This we gladly accepted, and 
made an appointment to meet him up the river ; in con- 
sequence, neither Major Tito nor his son went with us, as 
the latter was going to Tette, on the Zambesi. We started 
on Tuesday, 22nd Oct. We also lost Major Tito's piivate 
slaves, a crew, &c., by this change, which was a great loss. 
We had two canoes — one a large one, about two and a half 
feet broad — two-thirds covered by straw to secure our lug- 
gage, most of which was in this boat ; the rest was in an- 
other small canoe, about a foot and a half broad. In one 
were ten natives, whom we had never seen before, for crew, 
and in the small one, four natives. We had not gone far 
before the men in the big canoe refused to go any further, 
as it was sunset. They had not gone three mdes; they 
were close to home; and to-morrow there would be all the 
trouble of getting them off again. I insisted on their not 
stopping. They got out of the boat. I gesticulated, vo- 
ciferated, declaimed in broken jargon of Portuguese, <fec. 
At last I got them in, and off again. They were continually, 
however, turning the head of the boat round, and letting 
her drift back. Fortunately, as the sun set I had noticed 
the course, and with a punt-pole at the bow, and the assist- 
ance of Dickinson and Clarke at the stern, we managed to 
keep the boat right. I so far conquered them, that, with 
the fear of crocodiles, they pulled the boat up to their 
middles in water for an hour or two that night. Mean- 
while, we had missed the small canoe ; biit at length, much 
to our delight, we rejoined her, and I allowed my unruly 


crew to land and sleep, about niidniglit, at Mazaro, at Mr 
Vienna's, which we took by storm. The first trial ovei', 
I remained master of the position to the end of the jour- 
ney. We were four days in the Zambesi, and then came 
to its confluence with the Shire, where was a Portuguese 
fort, and at which the Isle of Monoconga was the rendezvous 
appointed by our friend the Governor, four days from start- 
ing. We met him with eight boats full of men coming 
down the river, on the third day. He said he was going to 
Quilimane. I said I was going up the Shire. We rather 
coolly shook hands, and went our diflerent ways. The Com- 
mandant here was very civil j he wanted us to stay; tried 
to frighten us with lions, tigers, <fec., up the Shire. He did 
us one good turn. He threw into the canoes, just as we 
were off, two strong ropes, which did us a good turn after- 
wards. We slept under shelter in a house twice out of 
the four nights on the Zambesi, otherwise in the open air. 
Our routine was to rise at daybreak, get a cup of coffee, 
and be I'eady to start by broad daylight; about 10 o'clock 
we used to land in the open air, make fire and have break- 
fast; about 12.30 or 1 o'clock start again, and go on until 
sunset. We slept, as you may suppose, in some very rough 
places, but during the whole time were never once attacked 
by man or beast. 

On the 26th we entered the Shire; it is a fine broad, 
deep, and, in some places, rapid river. The range of the 
Morambala skirt the whole left bank up to the Elephant 
Marsh. We went on without any mishap up to this time, 
when a change took place. You must know that our first 
point was to get to Livingstone, who was at anchor in the 
Pioneer, at a place called Chibisa's ; our party was we knew 
not where. Livingstone, therefoi*e, became our rendezvous; 
but not Tito, nor anybody at Quilimane, nor Poi-ti;guese 
on the river, could give us any but the vaguest idea about 
the locality. Worse still, when we got on the Shire, 
where we hoped, as we got further, to get a little more 



certain information, we found tliat the natives all knew 
too well tlie great " Puff, puff," wliich had so startled them 
when first it went up, but they gave the most inconsistent 
and vague accounts of the distance and position. The con- 
sequence of this was, that our crew were in danger of being 
disaffected, and leaving us in the lurch. They had already 
asked for the full payment they were to receive at the end 
of the journey, and I had given it them, and had engaged 
them on ; but there was no knowing when they might take 
it into their heads to say their engagement was at an end. 
Dickinson and Clarke thought that if we could only com- 
municate some certain information of our being on the river, 
it would be very well. I therefore started ofi" ahead in the 
small and light canoe, with a crew of four black men, to get, 
if possible, quickly up to Livingstone, tell him we were on 
the river, and then retiu-n. This was Tuesday, November 
5th. We went on capitally, soon lost sight of the big canoe, 
but at night we stopped at a large village to get rice. The 
object of the crew evidently was to delay and sleep there. 
I was determined not to do so if possible, and pushed off 
two or three times, but could not get them all into the boat 
at once. It was now become quite dark, and I was afraid 
of the inhabitants of the villages sympathising with them if 
I went too far ; so I was forced to yield ; but T sulkily made 
myself a bed on the luggage in the boat, with my revolver 
at hand. 

The men made a fire close by the boat, and were visited 
repeatedly during the night by villagers : one, a kind of 
jester or singer of the village, remained the whole night, 
singing to the accompaniment of a very extraordinary in- 
strument, which he played with his mouth and hands, being 
some rude combination between a fiddle and bagpipes. My 
attempts to get him to leave off were of no use. This is the 
only incident of this part of the journey (not a good begin- 
ning), and I soon got them to shake down into implicit obe- 
dience. They often tried to entice me to stay at a village 


when tliey heard ' Tom-toms ' and drums sounding — signs of 
a night dance, and where they knew they would get ' Pombi,' 
the native beer; but they never again succeeded, and we 
reached the ship safely on Wednesday, November 13th. 

The last day was very wet ; it rained the whole day ; and 
was the first day of the rains, which we had feared, as swell- 
ing and making the river too rapid for the large canoe to 
stem it, besides being an additional risk of disafiecting its 
crew. I can tell you, when we hailed the Pioneer, and saw 
English faces looking over the side at iis, wondering who 
we were, and then among those on deck recognised the 
hard- worn face of Livingstone, I felt a considerable thrill of 
pleasure and satisfaction pass through me. They were very 
kind and hospitable. In my hurry to get away I had for- 
gotten to put Dr Livingstone's letter-bag into my canoe j 
this certainly disappointed them much. I slept on board, 
in the next berth to Livingstone. On Thursday morning, 
to my very great satisfaction, who should appear but Bishop 
Mackenzie himself, from Magomero, our home. He greeted 
me most warmly; was, of course, most surprised, as he had 
never expected us. He had come to see Livingstone, before 
he left Chibisa's to go down the river to meet a vessel at the 
mouth on the 1st of January. As Livingstone was going 
down the river, I was released from the obligation of going 
back myself, and so I remained. On Friday morning the 
Pioneer weighed anchor, and was soon out of sight going 
down the river. Directly afterwards the Bishop and I started 
with a train of bearers overland for Magomei-o ; it is a hilly 
rough road the first part of the journey, and the hills were 
covered with mist. We slept at a village, having walked 
about twenty miles. We ought to have reached Magomero 
in about thi'ee days or less ; but I was not quite up to walk- 
ing, in consequence of not having walked much lately, and 
also as the river, cold at night, &e., had chilled my stomach. 
We therefore delayed on my account a good deal, and did 
not reach Magomero until November 19th. 


Having welcomed Mr Burrup at Magomero, after 
this truly wonderful expedition, we must now pass to 
events which led directly or indirectly to the pre- 
mature termination of Bishop Mackenzie's labours. 
It will be remembered that Miss Mackenzie remained 
at the Cape, intending to follow her brother as soon as 
news should be received that the settlement was suit- 
able for the accommodation of ladies. Mrs Burrup 
also was left by her husband at the Cape, to follow on 
the same conditions. The Bishop had written to say 
that the ladies might come, and it was arranged that 
Dr Livingstone should meet them at the mouth of the 
Zambesi, in the Pioneer, and bring them up to Chibisa's. 
The Pioneer left her moorings at Chibisa's on Nov. 15. 

It could not but be doubtful whether the arrange- 
ments would all fit in with each other, — whether the 
ladies would have received the Bishop's letters, and 
whether they would have been able to obtain a passage 
from the Cape to Kongone. However, so far as this was 
concerned, all was well. Mrs Burrup and Miss Mackenzie, 
together with the Rev. E. Hawkins, and Mrs Living- 
stone, took their passage in December, by a small vessel 
called the Hetty Ellen: it was a very rough and un- 
comfortable passage, but on January 8 they reached 
Kongone, where they threw up rockets and made 
signals, hoping that the Pioneer would shew herself. 
There was no sign of life, and the vessel again put 
out to sea, intending to make for Mozambique. The 
weather became very bad, and the voyage miserable ; 
they reached Mozambique however on January 21, 
where they happily fell in with H.M.S. Gorgon. Cap- 


tain Wilson, of the Gorgon, kindly took Miss Mackenzie 
and Mrs Burrup on board, and taking the Hetty Ellen 
in tow, they sailed on the afternoon of January 22, 
in greater comfort and with better prospects than they 
had had hitherto. On the 27th the ship anchored about 
three miles from the bar of Quilimane, where at present 
I must leave the party, in order to relate the doings of 
Bishop Mackenzie. 

It has been already stated, that the Pioneer left 
her moorings at Chibisa's on Nov. 15; the arrangement 
was, that Dr Livingstone should bring up the ladies, 
who it was thought might arrive at Kongone in the 
beginning of January, and that the Bishop and Mr 
Burrup should meet them at the confluence of the 
Shire and the Ruo. The map will at once shew the 
reader, that there ought to be some more direct road 
from Magomero to this point of confluence than by 
way of Chibisa's and the river. Accordingly, on De- 
cember 2, Mr Procter and Mr Scudamore started to 
explore a road. What happened to them can be best 
described by the following letter from the Bishop. 


Magomero, Dec. 7, 1861. 
Dear Strong, 

This is a day we shall not easily forget; and, as 
our friends at home cannot fail to be interested in the events 
of the last week, I shall write to-night while some of them 
are fresh in my mind, and enclose a fuller account of those 
which did not pass under my own eye. 

When Livingstone left his anchorage on November 15, 
he arranged with me that I should be ready to meet him on 
January 1 at the mouth of the RuOj about half-way between 


the ancliorage and the confluence of the Shire and Zambesi. 
He would there hand me over the party. We expect to 
meet him at the bar, and we should proceed to this place by 
land. Of course it was necessary to ascertain that there was 
a practicable road this way ; and I proposed to explore the 
way first, and then start from this with a sufficient party in 
time to keep the appointment. He said he thought it would 
be better to make one trip of it, starting in sufficient time 
to allow for unforeseen delays; and he also advised me to 
try a line more to the west than that which I had thought 

On returning home, I considered the whole matter, and, 
after consulting the others, I determined to abide by my 
own opinion, have an exploring party first, and try the line 
of country stretching from this to the southern end of 
Shirwa, and thence to the Euo mouth — probably down the 
valley of that stream itself. My reason for preferring this 
line was, that it would set at rest the question of having a 
main line of communication from north to south on Shirwa. 

I intended to have gone on the exploring party myself, 

but there were one or two things to be done at home which 

I could not well commit to any one else, and I had gone on 

almost every trip ; so I arranged with Procter and Scuda- 

more, to their complete satisfaction, that they should go 

with Charles to find the road, and retui-n before Christmas, 

or, failing that, " let me hear from them." We only waited 

for the arrival of the mail with Dickinson and Clarke. They 

got here all right on Friday, November 29; and last Monday 

(December 2) Procter and Scudamore set off, having some 

hastily-wi-itten letters to be given to Livingstone in the event 

of their seeing him. 


This afternoon I was sitting out, trying to improve in 
knowledge of the language by talking to one of the natives, 
and was in the act of endeavouring to get the word for 
" hope," by saying that I thought Procter and Scudamore 


would soon be back, aud that I should be glad when they 
came home safe, when I saw a strange figure coming in at 
the gate; it was some time before I recognised that it was 
Charles — haggard, in rags, foot- sore, and looking wretched 
to the last degree. He was soon sm-ronnded, and said 
faintly, " I am the only one that has escaped — I and one of 
the bearers. The Mang-anja attacked ns." Finding he had 
had nothing to eat for eight-and-forty hours, some soup was 
made ready for him at once. He then told ns his story. 

They had got on well for three days ; on the third the 
chief whom they passed at midday went with them to their 
resting-place, Manga. On Thursday they started with two 
additional guides, intending to sleep at Tombondira's, whom 
Chigunda had named as a great chief of those parts. At a 
fork of the path their old guide pointed to the right, which 
was the direction they would have preferred from the com- 
pass ; but the two guides maintained that the left-hand path 
was the better one, and their local knowledge gave weight 
to their counsel, which was accordingly followed. By mid- 
day they reached a large village, strongly defended, as some 
villages in this country are, with hedges and thorns. On 
entering they were almost at once asked if they wanted to 
buy slaves — a pretty clear indication of the kind of white 
people they were accustomed to see. Of course they said 
they did not come to buy slaves, that the English set their 
faces against such trade, and that they were English. " Well, 
then, what will you buy]" Answer — "We are only pass- 
ing through to look at the path, and are anxious to lose no 
time that we may meet our friends at the mouth of this river 
(the Ruo). Where is the chief?" "He is coming; you 
must wait for him." " Yery well ; only we want to get on to 
Tombondira's to-night." After a delay of an hour or two, no 
chief appearing, they determined to go on; so they packed 
up, and set ofi". They were followed out of the village by a 
number' of men with bows and arrows, who became loud 
in their calls and threats if they did not return. When they 


liad got about two miles from the village, tlie violence and 
ill-feeling was such that they stopped to consider whether 
they were not needlessly making enemies of these people, 
and whether it might not be best to see the chief, instead of 
breaking the etiquette of the country by running through his 
village. They asked if the chief were returned, and, being 
assured he was in the village, agreed to retui"n and cook 
food, and then to set off, as they were really in haste. 

When they got back they found the chief, who treated 
them civilly, giving them beer and wishing to trade. Tliey 
bought what they wanted, which seemed, however, very 
small to the people, who unfortunately saw their cash for 
three weeks' absence (consisting of about 140 yards of calico), 
and evidently thought themselves ill-treated in not getting 
a good share of it. Stragglers were dropping into the village, 
and things were not looking quite pleasant. Their host was 
not surprised at several European articles they produced, 
saying he had been at Quilimane and Senna. Still he was 
civil, and pressed them to remain all night. They went 
down to bathe, and on their return Charles told them that 
their bearers had overheard plans for burning their hut in 
the night, killing them, and taking their goods. This deter- 
mined them to be off. They called the chief, and while they 
occupied him by giving him a fine bright-coloured scarf, 
Charles was instructed to get the beavers into motion, and 
Procter and Scudamore would follow them out of the gate. 
The chief seemed taken by svxrprise, on hearing they were 
going to start at once, but the scarf occupied his attention 
in some degree. The men in the open space of the village, 
on seeing the movement, cried out, Atawa! ("they are 
running away"), and some of them tried to block up the 
gate ; but Charles dashed forward, and made them fall back, 
and the flight became general. Charles escaped into the 
bush; he heard two shots fired, which must have been by 
our friends, — our dear brothers, as we felt more than ever 
they were ; but what had become of them he did not know. 


He had been almost caught once or twice, had heard the pur- 
suers say, " Here he is ! here he is ! " but, thank God, he had 
been hid in the darkness. They had left the village just at 
sunset, and night had set in very soon. He avoided all 
paths, but was stopped by a large river, which they had 
crossed that morning at a village ; so that he was forced to 
seek a new place for crossing. He sat down on the bank 
till morning. He was then obliged to ask where he could 
cross, and with difficulty persuaded the people to guide him. 
That day he avoided tillages still, and got here on the fol- 
lowing day, as I have described, hungry and weary. 

You may perhaps imagine our state of mind. We 
anxiously made inquiry, from which to form conjectures 
where our two friends might be ; but first we gave Charles 
some soup, and then we joined together in our temporary 
church in prayer for them, whether in suffering or fear, or 
wherever they might be, that God would be their support 
and strength ; and for ourselves, that we might have wisdom 
to act with thought and charity towards the persecutors, and 
yet for the safety of oiu' brethren. Then we consulted what 
was to be done. Rowley was on his bed, unable to move 
from the place ; some of the rest were a little out of sorts ; 
but, besides, we had sufficient accounts of Ajawa fighting on 
our west, within twenty miles, to make us feel the necessity 
of leaving an adequate strength here, while we went towards 
the south-east. On the other hand, to go to a strong village, 
in the centre perhaps of a populous district, only four or 
five of us, seemed likely to increase the mischief; yet 
we could not depend on the Mang-anja going with us in a 
case in which they were not concerned, still less on their 
standing by us in case of need. Our only course was to get 
the help of the Makololo, who would not be disposed to take 
the part of any of the natives against us, and would be 
glad to go w^ith us anywhere if there was any chance of 
plunder. They were most of them at the anchorage of the 
Pioneer (Chibisa's), and Job must be sent for them. This 


settled, the sorrow, and tlie tiyiug to be simply trusting in 
our Father, returned as before. We thought how sad it was 
to have to wait some days before setting off to look for them. 
I could not drive from my imagination the picture of what 
I saw in August — a man in the act of being stabbed to 
death. Just then one of our women came running to say, 
that the English were returning : and so indeed they were. 
They looked in better heart than Charles, for whom they 
asked immediately, not knowing whether he was safe. 
They, too, were hungry, having lived on a single fowl each 
for eight-and-forty hours, in which time they had walked 
about eighty-five miles. They were supplied with soup, and 
then we again assembled with very different feelings in 
oiu- place of worship, to thank Him who had been guiding 
them while we in our anxiety were praying for them, and to 
pray that we might be bound together now in still closer 
bonds in carrying out our great common end. 

By degrees we heard their account. They had passed 
through the gate close after Charles. Some of the bearers 
had their loads taken from them, others threw theirs down. 
They were followed, and crowded on each side, by a mass of 
men armed with bows and poisoned arrows. They shouted 
for Charles, but got no answer. Two or three of the natives 
got hold of Procter's gun and tried to wrest it from him ; 
afterwards they got him down, and he had to defend himself 
with his heels as he lay on his back. Scudamore, who was 
a few steps in advance, came to the rescue, and fired on the 
man who was most busy. On this they ran away. At one 
time an arrow was discharged at Procter, which must have 
passed through his thigh, and, laming him, most probably 
have cost them both their lives, had it not viost providentially 
been received by the stock of his gun. He broke it off after- 
wards, but the point is still deeply bedded in the wood. 
Procter also fired both barrels; and this and Scudamore's 
shot having cleared a space behind and round them, they 
struck off into the trackless bush on the left of the path. In 


a minute or two tliey stopped, deliberated, and prayed for 
guidance, and then set off homewards. 

It was slow work, treading over the burnt grass, the 
stalks of which stood np crisp and black, about a foot high ; 
but it was better than long grass higher than their heads, or 
thick underwood, while the darknes ssufficiently concealed 
them : thus " all things worked together for good for them." 
About twenty miles they went that night, guided by a fire 
on the Milanje mountains on their right. But for this fire 
they must in all probability have wandered, and perhaps fallen 
back into the village they had left. Their next difficulty 
was the river. Three times Scudamore (who is a good swim- 
mer) stripped to find a crossing : twice he was carried down 
by the stream, and obliged to land on the same side. At 
the third place he got across, and then they carried their 
clothes above their heads to keep them dry. For half an 
hour about sunrise they rested, half-dozing, on the top of an 
ant-hill, concealed by the bushes which grew upon it, and 
discussed the plan of hiding there till night. It was well, 
however, that they went on. That day, Friday, they got 
over forty miles, finding it safe now to keep the path, but 
avoiding a village here and there. They asked a man who 
was hoeing in his garden to shew them the path to a hill 
which they had passed, and which they named, telling him 
they had no cloth to pay him. The man put his hoe on his 
shoulder, and went with them some miles. Afterwards they 
thought of their pocket-handkerchiefs. One was torn up and 
used as cash; a quarter of it remained on their return. On 
the Saturday they walked about twenty-five miles, making 
the whole distance eighty-five, which tallies with other esti- 
mates. They were both looking much fagged; Procter has 
a scratch on his face, made by an arrow in the tussle. 
Now, after four nights have passed, they are more like 

In looking back on all this, some people will blame me 
for not exactly following Livingstone's advice. He said : 


" Send no separate exploring party, but start in sufficiently- 
good time to explore and ariive on tlie 1st of January at the 
Rug mouth. Take the old road as far as Soche, and then 
keep the mountain Choro on your right." Livingstone had 
never been on the road, but thought that the best way. He 
also advised me not to weaken our home party too much, for 
fear of attack from the Ajawa on our west. My reasons for 
not acting on this advice were, that by the route actually 
taken we could get guides on whom we could depend from 
Chigunda, who spoke at one time of going himself; whereas 
guides from Soche might, I thought, be as likely to mislead 
us as to guide us rightly. Besides, I thought it a good 
opportunity to explore a new route, and one which, if suc- 
cessful, would probably be better than the one named by 
Livingstone; and I thought he had given the advice he did, 
because he wished us to keep the old safe road, so far as it 
would serve. How far I am condemned by the result will 
not be clear till we have tried his path, which I now propose 
to do. 

Dec. 13.— There have now returned six of the men who 
went with Procter and Scudamore, leaving two, together 
with Nkuto, one of our boys who went with them. The 
sixth came here this morning, and made a formal report to 
Chigunda and us. He was caxight on that Thursday night, 
on the path, some men having gone on before to secure all 
who tried to escape. Our friends and the others struck off 
the path, anticipating the danger. They bound all the foiir, 
and kept himself and our boy Nkuto in the great village, the 
other two in a neighbouring village. Our goods were all put 
into the large hut in which " the English " had been, and to 
which the two false guides had access. In the morning, 
these two, the sons (as it appears) of Chipoka, the chief from 
whose village they had started on the "Wednesday morning, 
claimed the freedom of this man, and he was at once given 
up to them. With them he returned to Chipoka's village. 
Manga. In answer to the question whether these two had 


any shai-e of the plunder, he said that he could not see what 
was inside their bags, nor hear what was said behind his 
back. Chipoka escorted him to the village of Saopa, and 
Saopa to a village near this. Chipoka sends an arrow to 
Chigunda, our chief, and says: "I am not in blame for this 
war; Mauasomba has tried to kill the English, has stolen 
their baggage and their boy, and has kept two of your men. 
He says, If the English want the men, let them come and 
buy them out, or else fight for them." We asked why he 
supposed they had thought evil against us ; he said, " Because 
you went about with much cloth, and refused to buy slaves, 
and would not buy much of anything else ; so they thought it 
better to take it from you." We asked some questions about 
the nation of Manasomba, and the extent of his territory. 
It seems probable, though not certain, that he is not a Mang- 
anja; some say Auguru, some Amlache. If they had kept 
the right road they would not have come near him, and 
would have been well received by Tombondira, who is 
supreme over Saopa and Chipoka, and whose influence is 
said to extend to the Shire. 

This treaclierous attempt to murder the two mis- 
sionaries, besides being extremely painful in itself, 
was also a source of anxiety to Bishop Mackenzie 
in another way. Could such an outrage be passed 
over without notice ? especially as some of the party 
were still missing, and might possibly have been 
murdered ? And if any notice should be taken, when 
and by whom? The Bishop would gladly, as he 
states in one of his letters, have left to Dr Living- 
stone the responsibility of calling the offenders to ac- 
count in the Queen's name ; but would it be likely 
that Dr Livingstone would be able to find time to take 
the matter in hand? and if it should prove that the 


work must fall upon the Bishop himself, would it not 
be much better to see to it at once and not defer the 
matter till his return from the rendezvous with Dr 
Livingstone, when he would probably have a party of 
ladies, and a large supply of goods, on his hands ? But 
if so, there was no time to be lost ; it would be ne- 
cessary to go to Manasomba's, then perhaps return to 
Magomero, and then hasten with all speed to keep the 
appointment at the mouth of the Ruo, by way of 
Chibisa's and the Shire. This general explanation will 
be sufficient to introduce the following letter to his 
sister in Scotland ; it carries the story of the Bishop's 
life very nearly to its conclusion, and is the last letter 
written home by him. Possibly, had it not been the 
last, I might have been tempted to abridge it. 


:Magomero, Bee. 22, iSfio. 

Fourth Sunday in Advent. 


I must write a few lines by this mail, thougli it 
may not be much. First, I asked you, in a letter despatched 
Dec. 2, 1861, which is probably lost, to send me three Bibles, 
like the one I have myself, in strong binduig. I want also 
a copy of Boone's Sermons, late Incumbent of S. John's, Pad- 
dington. You may read them, if you like, first : let them be 
bound. Also please buy for yourself from me a copy of 

Archer Butler's Sermons, and for , from me, a copy of 

The Faith Duty and Practice of a Christian Missionary 
(Rivingtons') ; also, for me, Thriipp On the Psalms (Mac- 

Pear , I have much at times to depress me ; more 

than ever I had. But I expected it, and must not complaiu. 


Tlie Dean of Cape Town, in liis sermon at my consecration, told 
me I should. But the work is God's. I should not mind dis- 
couragement among the heathen ; but it is among our Cape 
Town men. God help us all to grow in grace, and them especi- 
ally in the grace of purity. Dear and , pray for them. 

They need also humility, and especially needs command 

of temper. I feel these sins in themselves as wounds to 
our Saviour and breaches in the walls of our Zion, and 
as positive hindrances, so far as they go, to our work, by 
lowei-ina us among the heathen. But in all this I comfort 

o o 

myself that the work will live, and leaven the masses of 
this people by the power of the Holy Spirit, dwelling in and 
vivifying His Church. 

Dec. 24. To come to events. This is the second day of 
our journey to the Ruo mouth to meet the Pioneer on Jan. 1. 
How strange that you probably know already whether I shall 
find our sisters in the Pioneer or not. There is a good deal to 
say on both sides from our point of view. The Bishop of 
Cape Town would know of the appointment as soon as the 
Admiral; and whether the Admiral sent a vessel from Cape 
Town, or sent word to one on the station, that is, near Jo- 
hanna, to go to Kongone to meet Livingstone, in either 
case our party would have an opportunity of leaving Cape 
Town. But then it is urged here, that as I wrote for them 
from the Zambesi only, and have not had an opportunity of 
writing for them from Magomero in time for them to come 
this time, the Bishop of Cape Town and all prudent people 
would advise their staying at Cape Town till accounts of us 
are received from some fixed resting-place. This is quite 

natural ; biit I hope as against this that would be strong 

enough to say, "We yielded to his own (that is, my) decision, 
that the ladies could not go up at first : surely we ought not 
to be kept from going up, when Livingstone and he agree 
in saying, Come." Again, I say, if there was any difficulty 
about a man-of-war from Cape Town for them, still they 
would have to send us stores ; at least I trust they know 



that we are depending on a fresh snpply now, having bronght 
from Johanna as little as we could possibly do with. If they 
do not send us stores, we shall have to hope that we may get 
some cloth throiigh the Doctor from Senna, at three times the 
English price, and live on native produce till we can get 
more stores ; and on this we shall probably be half of us ill 
all the time, on an average. But I am not afraid of this. 
The above discussion of probabilities may amuse you. 

"We meant originally to have left home on Thursday*. 
Then, to please Chigunda and accommodate ourselves to the 
assembling of the few hundred men he was gathering to go 
with us, we delayed till Friday. From Friday we delayed 
till Satvirday from the impossibility of getting bearers ; and 
the Makololo, whom we had asked to come with us, only 
arrived on Saturday, and there was not time to make a start 
after talking over the affair with them. So it was Monday, 
leaving eight week-days in this year, one of which is Christ- 
mas. Of these I expect six will be spent in walking, and 
there will be left two for the visit we intend to pay to Mana- 
somba. You know already what is the cause ; it is clear we 
can not do anything like making a demand to be backed by 
force when we have ladies on our hands, and it is likely that 
it will not suit Livingstone to keep our ladies till we can do 
this; though if I thought he could do this, I would much 
rather have his name and authority joined with my own in 
the matter. 

I was not well in the morning, and the doctor gave me a 
little chalk and opium ; I hoped the walk would quite set me 
up. It was a good day for walking ; and we did a short 
journey, about fourteen miles. I bathed afterwards, which 
was perhaps unwise, and found at night that I was no 
better; bxit Waller has just (11 a.m.) given me some more 
medicine, and I shall enjoy my breakfast when it is ready. 
There is the chief of this village, and I must speak to him. 

I have had my talk with him, and have had breakfast ; 
^ December 19, 


and now lie is looking on in wonder while I write. He 
gave us a kid, and a basket of corn, and I have given him 
two yards of velvet, bright blue, with which he looks much 
pleased. His name is Kwanji, and also Sata-Massira, the 
latter of which means plenty of corn ; a very appropriate 
name, for it is almost the only village I have seen for some 
time, in which the people have not been starving. We are 
going nearly due South, and are getting near to the grand 
range of the Milanje, nearer than Livingstone has been. To- 
night we sleep at Saopa's, and to-morrow go on to Chipoka's. 
We cannot afford, after so much loss of time, to sit still on 
Christmas Day, but we shall have our service of worship and 
communion with the whole Church, of which Christ is Head, 
notwithstanding. Now they are ready to start : it is about 
12 or 1, I suppose. 

Dec. 25. Christmas Day. You will be sorry to hear 
that we are walking to-day as usual. I was very anxious to 
get here (Saopa's village) last night, that our journey to- 
day might have been a short one, from this to Chipoka's. 
And then we should have had a communion service in the 
quiet part of the day, which would have been the morning. 
But some of the party were too tired to come on last night. 
So we have had more than three hours' walking this morning, 
and have about six before us. 

Since I wrote the above we have had breakfast, and 
have had a long talk with the two chiefs, Chigunda, who 
came with us, and Saopa of this village. They say that 
Chipoka was here not long ago, to ask if we were coming. 
(Saopa also was at Kwanji's, and returned the day before 
yesterday.) Chipoka left directions that when we came he 
should be summoned, that we might talk over the whole 
matter quietly. This he thought better, because in his vil- 
lage are so many that have relations with Manasomba, who 
would be apt to call out Nkondo (war), on our appearing, 
and give notice at once to Manasomba, while here at Saopa's 
we may stay without his hearing of us. As it was by the 



two giiides from Chipoka's that our party was led to Mana- 
somba's, we ask whether he is to be trusted ; they say, " Yes : 
he and Chigunda and Satawa and Saopa and Tombondira 
are brothers; they all look up to Chinsunzi and Kankomba, 
and they will all send some men with the English against 
Manasomba." It will be best, they think, to call Chipoka, 
as he wished. The messenger will go, so as to get to Chi- 
poka's at night. The chief will come away in the darkness, 
and no one in his village will know where he is gone. I 
asked these two chiefs what they thought would be the 
resulting advice to-morrow : Chigunda answered, more by 
signs than by words, that we should go to ChijDoka's from 
this perhaps to-morrow afternoon, as quietly as possible, 
trusty men guiding by a zigzag path, to avoid the main road ; 
that early next morning we should go in silence (his lips all 
grasped in his hand to indicate silence) to Manasomba's, 
(his forefingers stepping stealthily along the mat on which 
we sat, till on getting to Manasomba's he made a spring 
forward with both hands so as to seize all that was there), 
and then retui-n quietly to Chipoka's, (where his look of per- 
fect innocence, and ignorance of having done anything re- 
markable, after the animated features of the march and 
attack, was inimitable). I asked how it would do to send 
a message to Manasomba that we were coming against him, 
and that his only way of averting an attack would be by 
meeting us on the path and bringing the stolen men and 
property, with a goat for each man wrongfully detained ; if he 
did this, we should not tovich him ; if he did not, we should 
burn his village ? They said, " O, he will take the people and 
the things, and will run away, and we shall never see them." 
I said, " Suppose then we go quietly as you propose, and on 
getting near the village tell the first men we see to tell the 
chief the same thing." They thought this might be done. 

Dec. 26. I laid down my pen at this point yesterday, 
a fit of drowsiness having come over me. In a few minutes 
we had our evening prayers, followed by Communion. I 


thought there were innumerable Christian congi-egations 
joining in Communion, but probably none so far from the 
centre of earthly communion, I mean none in so out-of-the- 
way a place. How wondrous the feeling of actual instan- 
taneous communion with all you dear ones, though the dis- 
tance and the means of earthly communication are so great 
and so difficult ! How great this boon which He instituted 
and in His Holy Gospel commanded us to continue, as a 
perpetual memory of Him until His coming again ! 

The chief of this village is Saopa, an old, thin, tallish 
man, with a pleasant face, with whom I think I get on 
better in trying to speak, than with any previous stranger. 
He sent for his neighbour Satawa (meaning, not runaway ; 
tawa is to run away), to whom we gave two yards of blue 
velvet, as we had given Saopa the same quantity of scarlet. 
They were beautiful colours, though the stuff is narrow, and 
the fabric slight: it calls forth great admiration always. 
The site of this village is very good : on the east is the 
towering range of the Milanje, hiding the sun^ it is tiiie, till 
two or nearly three hours after he has begun his course to 
the zenith. These hills, whose summits are estimated by 
Livingstone as being about 8000 feet above the sea, (and we 
are here about 2000,) remind me of the Wetterhorn near 
the river Aar in Switzerland; so towering, such inacces- 
sible precipices. There the avalanches are roaring down 
every hour; here the torrents pour down, tracing vertical 
lines on the rock, which remain when the supply of water 
fails, and give the precipice a curious striated look, which 
we can see from Magomero, forty or fifty miles off. In 
some parts the precipice gives place to a steep slope covered 
with the trees and other luxuriant vegetation, below which 
is precipice again ; the streams from the top giving an almost 
daily supply of moisture to the slope, from which it drains 
again to supply the lower ground ; and all along the foot of 
the precipice is the rapid descent to the level of the plain, 
formed by the debris of the clifis above. On this descent 


are many villages, and well cultivated gardens, the early 
produce of which heljDed our simple meal yesterday ; for we 
had new heads of Chimanga (the mealies, you remember, of 
Natal), Indian corn, a fortnight or three weeks earlier than 
I remember them in Natal. The village itself lies in the 
shade of its own large trees, Indian fig and others, the cen- 
tral space being vacant, and serving for the reception of 
visitors, and large bodies of men, and for the transaction of 
business. It is in this place that we have taken all our 
meals, and that I am now sitting on one of our boxes writ- 
ing to you. I have said there is abundance of rain here, 
caused, I suppose, by the nearness of these lofty, precipitous 
hills : and this with the heat produces the luxuriant vege- 
tation; but on the other hand the place is damp; all round 
the village the grass, as high as one's middle, is soaking ; and 
under these trees the mossy mould of damp soil is spread, 
while the tops of the hills are shrouded in the level lying 
clouds, like the table-cloth on Table Mountain at the Cape. 
We have not seen the sun during the four-and-twenty hours 
we have been here. Even here the people are complaining 
of hunger ; and one would have accused them of inconceiv- 
able idleness for being without food in such a land of plenty, 
but that we hear in this quarter also of inroads by other 
oppressors, like our friends the Ajawa on the other side. 
The poor Mang-anja seem hunted and oppi-essed on all sides. 
Perhaps these afiiictions have been appointed as a means of 
their receiving the Gospel. Tontorua seems to have been a 
destroyer now for a long time. William, who has been 
twenty-one years at the Cape, remembers his name be- 
fore he left his own country, though that may have been 
a former holder of the title. We are told that the present 
Ajawa chief, Kainka, is the son and successor of another of 
the same name. 

Dec. 27, S. John's day. Dear , it is sti-ange pass- 
ing these Holy days in this secular way. It makes me often 
review my position and say, "If it feels strange to be on such 


an expedition on a Saint's day, is it right to go on it at all ]" 
and the result is that I always feel that it is. Yesterday 
we stayed at Saopa's village till 12, and then sent word to 
the chiefs that as the messenger had not yet come back from 
Chipoka's, we should go immediately, and meet him on the 
road. At the same time we ordered a fire to be lighted, 
water to be boiled, and chocolate made, that we might have 
something to start upon, as it wovild probably be dark before 
we began to think of another meal. By one, we were ready 
to start : but they said our bearers had gone out to buy food, 
and the only guide who knew the way to Chipoka's was gone 
with them. I said to my party, "If you will go on, mai'king 
the road well (that is, making a line with a stick, or shoe, 
across every path that you do not take, to bar it), I will 
follow with the luggage as soon as I can. I can walk 
quicker, and do not mind being late out." This plan was not 
a good one, and met with no favour from my companions; 
but it seemed to me to be the only way to save, if possible, 
the day which was just slipping through our fingers. So 
I stuck to it. The baggage was made up. The bearers 
turned up, and some of the Makololo also who were out; 
the chiefs Chigunda and Saopa were induced to get off the 
ground, and the latter himself became our guide. We got 
ofi" by two; a perfect triumph of determination over obsti- 
nacy and indolence. 

We got here (Koronko, I think, is the chiefs name) about 
seven, having crossed some troublesome streams, swollen by 
the heavy rain, which was dashing down the precipices on our 
left in beautiful cascades. The first of these we crossed by 
tucking up our trousers, and half wading, half springing from 
stone to stone: the second we were carried over; the rest we 
waded simply, being already drenched with rain; and at the 
last, which was the worst, we were obliged some of us to stand 
in the water holding each other up, and pass over baggage, 
and help some of the rest. Some of our bearers from Ma- 
gomero were the worst; the old cMef Saopa, a man of sixty 


})erhaps, was very plncky : Chigimda came out in a "way that 
surprised us all, and his nephew and heir-apparent, Zachura- 
kamo, was the boldest and best. 

The chief, Chipoka, has come here, and is in confabu- 
lation with Chigunda and Saopa. I let them alone for a 
little, on the principle that disturbing them would only be 
wasting time, as they would have their talk out before I 
heard anything. But after a little I sent William to say, 
that I should be glad to see Chipoka. He has been gone 
about a quarter of an hour, and I suppose is learning all the 

This morning we heard the following account. A man 
of this village told Chigunda last night that he had been 
lately in Manasomba's village, and learned that three of 
Manasomba's men had been as spies at or near Magomero ; 
he having ascertained that we were coming against him, 
had called his brother from the banks of the Shii-e to help 


tuith Livinyslone 

him, and had strengthened himself in a camp on the east 
(the left) bank of the Ricania, at the only ford where we 
could cross to get to Manasomba's. In the annexed sketch 


tbe line in the writing^ may represent the outline of the 
Milanje mountains. The lines in the map are meant for the 
river Shire, its branch the Ruo, and its branch the Ricania. 
Tombondira's village is on the west side of the Ruo, as I have 
put it, and probably below the confluence of the Ricania. I 
do not believe the whole of this story : I do not believe that 
the spies ascertained, at or near Magomero, what our move- 
ments were. It was only tlii'ee days before we left home 
that I told Chigunda what we were going to do. Men 
might guess before that, as I sent about a week earlier for 
the Makololo to come up ; but I don't believe our intentions 
were at all generally known till this day last week. The 
other part of the story is possible enough : we have two 
other and independent sources of the information that Mana- 
somba has relations on the Shire, or Ruo, or at the conflu- 
ence. A further account says, that the camp is on this side 
of the Ricania, which is better for us, as we should have 
an opportunity of routing them before trying to cross the 
river in the face of them. This latter is, I think, a possible 
though certainly a difficult operation, as we may probably 
have to swim, and it will be difiicult to obey Cromwell's 
injunction, to keep our powder dry, 

1.30 P.M. We are just going to sit down to breakfast, 
(having, however, broken our fast on two cups of cofiee and 
a biscuit at 7). We have had a long talk with Chipoka, and 
the rest. He said he was very sorry for what had happened, 
but Manasomba had done it himself. He (Chipoka) had sent 
our party there in good faith. We asked what character 
Manasomba had, and he said, that "though he had often ill- 
treated strangers, he had never done any harm to any one 
conducted by his messengers. It was their ordinary way of 
going back and forwards between Chipoka and Tombondira." 
"What did Tombondira think of it all ?" Ans. " O, we are 

^ The Bishop has written over the upper part of his sketch; this 
cannot be reproduced in print, but the reader will find the map per- 
fectly intelligible. 


one : wliat is done to one is done to both." I said, "I tliink 
it riglit to punish such a man ; so we will go togethei* ; but 
do not suppose that I am always going about with my gun 
to kill men, (" hear ! hear ! " from Chigunda ;) my children 
came down peaceably to this place, but were detained and 
attacked by Manasomba. I live quietly at Magomero. Our 
wish is to do you good by exchanging cloth, beads, and other 
English goods for your goats and com, ivory and cotton: 
and what is more than all, we come to you from God, of 
whom we have a better knowledge than you, whose laws we 
know, and we want to teach you these things. (All the 
chiefs said to this, "that is good.") So do not think I like 
bloodshed ; but this man must be punished, and we must get 
back the three that are in his hands." 

As to the time, we arranged that we should come to his 
village and sleep there ; that he should go at once to call toge- 
ther his own and Tombondira's men, and that we should all 
be off early in the morning. He proposes that we should 
return to his village at night. Whether we do that, or go 
on to Tombondii-a's, will depend on circumstances. Kow we 
must be off, 3.30 p.m. 

Dec. 30, 10 A.M. Chipoka's village, called Manga. We 
got here on Friday sooner than I expected, soon enough to 
have a bath before dark in the sparkling rocky stream that 
we crossed just before we entered the village. This is a won- 
derfully beautiful situation. Under the overhanging pre- 
cipices of the Milanje on the north, rising in two huge domes 
of the shape of a lemon standing erect on a plate, when the 
smaller half has been removed; the sides of the granite 
furrowed and gnarled by the torrents, that pom* down when 
there is tropical rain. These domes guard the entrance of a 
steep-sided horse-shoe valley or scoop in the range, the back 
of which is thickly covered with trees on its inaccessible 
surface. From the foot of one of these domes the ground 
slopes pretty rapidly to the level of the southern plain ; and it 
is on a part of this slope, just above the bank of the stream, 


the Malodza, (Marossa, as Procter and Sciidamore have 
written it, and it is not much different, as I and r seem in- 
terchangeable in this hxngnage,) that the village of Manga is 
biiilt. There are fine trees, among which the huts nestle in 
groups of four or five, so that it is difficult to know their 
number, but I suppose there are fifty ; the one we are sleep- 
ing in is one of the largest : it is about sixteen feet in dia- 
meter, inside, the roof extending to a diameter of about 
twenty-four. There are numbers of beautiful banana trees, 
but there is little ripe fruit this year, the people having 
eaten a great deal unripe during the late scarcity. The view 
towards the south is extensive, seeming to reach for fifty 
miles or more, a wide rich plain, intersected by the E,uo and 
its tributaries, dotted with hills of six or eight hundred feet, 
and bounded, I believe, by the hills beyond the Shire, with 
perhaps a dip down on this side of it, like a sunk fence, con- 
cealed from this. 

That night we had a talk with the chief, and finally 
arranged that we should start very early, so as to get to 
Manasomba's before people were awake. But when they came 
to wake us it was half-past twelve, and so dark a night, that 
no one would go down the bank of the stream to get us some 
water for coffee, till Scudamore went with them. We agreed 
that it was wild to start so early, and that they might come 
for us towards daybreak; and we lay down again to sleep. 
In the moi'ning we started on a cup of coffee, carrying with 
us cold kid and a bottle of wine. Our only cup was the one 

gave me. The first stream we came to was so deep, 

that, though I was mounted high on the back of a man 
as tall as myself, I got wet up to the knee. The largest 
river we had to cross was the Ricania. It was this water 
that Scudamore had tried three times to ford before he suc- 
ceeded that night in the dark. To our sui-prise we found a 
good bridge, consisting of a large tree thrown across. On 
the other side we halted for a quarter of an hour to refresh 
ourselves. We were in all about fifty, fifteen of whom were 


English, and Makololo, with guns, the rest Mang-anja from 
Chipoka and Saopa, with one or two guns among them : so 
that both in number of our own party and in smallness of 
our allies, we were more like the party of July under Li- 
vingstone than either of our own later bodies of August or 
October. About a quarter of an hour after this we stopped 
to pray for God's blessing, professing that we were not going 
in private revenge, but to free the captives, and to punish 
the robber and would-be murderer, in God's name, (having 
the good word, as you see, of the chiefs around, and their ap- 
proval of our going,) and then I told them all that I wanted 
was to get my children back, and the stolen property, (more 
than 100 yards of cloth, besides change of clothing, food, 
pots and pans, &c. ;) that I did not wish to kill any one, 
only to get these things, and to burn the village, that Mana- 
somba might learn not to do so again, and others might fear; 
that if they defended their village we would drive them out, 
but on no account take women or children, or hurt them ; 
that I wanted none of the plunder we might get, but they 
must bring it all together, and I would give shares of it. 

After this we proceeded, expecting to reach the village 
in about an hour. Within ten minutes of our halt, (during 
the prayer all had been bowed to the ground except myself, 
standing up, with my eyes shut,) we saw a body of men 
nearly as lai"ge as our own coming to meet us. I called out, 
"Walk on, do not stop." I wished to know at once for 
myself what they said. As we afterwards learned, Chipoka, 
the chief of this village, had last Wednesday, (before he knew 
of our approach,) held a meeting with Manasomba, and ar- 
ranged to have a Minandu, a discussion of their quarrel, on 
that very Saturday, that this was actually Manasomba and 
a few men coming to the Minandu, and not seeing at first 
that there were English or so many guns in our party, 
called out, " Stand still, do not come on :" but on our con- 
tinuing to advance they left the path, and he stood on a 
huge ant-hill on our right. I found they were saying some- 


thing about a talk; so I told "William to call out, that if 
they wished to speak, five of them might come out and meet 
us. I did not know Manasomba was among them ; but 
they ran away, and on asking where they had gone, I got 
answer that probably they had gone to his village. So we 
resumed our march, expecting to find the village defended : 
but when we got there, we found the entrance where the 
bearers some weeks ago had thrown down their burdens, and 
where Scudamore and Procter had had such a tussle, un- 
guarded; and on passing through we found ourselves in a 
fine, but deserted village. I stayed at the centre, telling the 
rest to search the huts and bring everything to the centre. 
There were some fine Muscovy ducks, about half a dozen 
sheep and goats, and a little corn; of our own goods we 
recovered our valise, a pair of shoes, two or three pots, two 
tins of preserved meat, and a piece of soap. Then we set 
the huts on fire, most of the jDarty carrying out the plunder. 
I had left Burrup with Charlie (Makololo), Zachurakamo, 
and one or two others at the gate, to prevent our being sur- 
prised. We left the village in about half an hour; the sheep 
and goats were divided, three to the Makololo, two to 
Zachurakamo, (the nephew and heir of Chigunda,) two to 
Chipoka's people. Everything else I left as it had arranged 
itself, and we began our return. The live stock were much 
in our way; and Waller begged me to cut them adrift j and 
this had to be done at last. About an hour on our way 
home, as Scudamore and Burrup, who were in front, were in 
a narrow muddy place between masses of reeds, a shot was 
fired on them from the front. I heard the shot, where I 
was, behind, and hurried forward. I sent a party to go 
through, saying we from behind could now command the 
ground from which the shot had come. They went through 
this time without molestation. We found one man had been 
shot in the stomach by an arrow, which had to be cut out, 
as the first barb was buried, and another had flesh-wounds 
as from shot, or small stones. After this we tried to keep 


our party a little more in hand ; but this was not easy, for 
after I had cut the sheep and goats adrift, the men would 
delay to kill and carry them : a time of no small anxiety, as 
the head of the column had got out of sight ; I was in the 
middle waiting for Mobita to come up. However, at last 
we got into order, and went on slowly. The wounded man 
could not walk fast, and at last had to be carried. We were 
thankful to find the tree-bridge across the Ricania free, and 
got home rather tired about five. The day had been got 
through, to which we had looked forward with much doubt 
as to how we were to act. We had, indeed, failed to get 
back our people, (I forgot to say that we called out to Mana- 
somba, that we wanted our people, when we met that party 
on the path,) but we had punished the robber, and had re- 
tui-ned safe. We had vindicated the English name, and had 
shewn in this neighbourhood that it is not safe to attack an 
Englishman ; and I hope the lesson may not be thrown 
away on these people. 

Yesterday, being Sunday, we were a little disturbed by 
reports, which we did not believe, that Manasomba had 
come across the Ricania, and at one time that he was 
already at the foot of this village. I sent some of the 
Makololo to ascertain the truth, and in the mean time we 
had prayers. The chief Chipoka was attracted by the sound 
of the responses, and came to the door of the hut, where he 
stayed quietly, standing and sitting as he saw they did in- 
side, all through the Morning Prayer and Litany: we re- 
served the Communion-service till the Makololo should 
report, and when they did it was late. Theii- report was, 
that Manasomba had never crossed the Ricania, but they 
saw a messenger professing to come from him, asking Chi- 
poka to come next day to a Minandu. Chipoka sent back 
answer (on their return) to the messenger, who was to wait 
where they found him, that he would not cross the Ricania, 
that Manasomba must come to meet him at Coswe's, (a vil- 
lage we saw on Saturday ;) he would meet him there. 


Last night and this morning we have had much discus- 
sion what to do. The proposed plans were, to go across 
country to Soche, where (with your accurate geographical 
knowledge, you will know) we fall into our old route to the 
ship's anchorage, take that route, and go down the Shire by 
canoe, or go to Tombondira's from this, and so down the 
Kuo, or, as we have seen some reason to fear the chiefs on 
the Kuo, to keep a little more to the right, (the West,) say 
twenty or fifteen miles, and try to strike the confluence as 
nearly as jjossible, or to stay where we are and hear the end 
of the Minandu, sending Zachurakamo to it, to represent 
us, and in our name and Chigunda's demand the captives. 
Of these four plans Waller and Scudamore leaned to the 
first or last, the second was mine, the third Burrup's. I 
objected to the first, that we should be about a week too late 
in keeping our appointment. To the fourth, that I did not 
see that we should do any good to Chipoka by staying a day 
or two here : he must depend on himself at last, when we 
went; and as to demanding the captives, saying that was 
the condition of peace with us, it seemed neither true nor 
expedient to do so, unless we were prepared to do something 
to enforce the demand in case (as seemed very likely) it were 
refused; and we were all agreed that we could not and 
would not do more. Finally, we took this last course, with 
the modification of not making any threat : we told Chipoka 
we would wait till he came back from the Minandu, and we 
sent Zachurakamo, simply to demand the captives. That 
was, I suppose, about nine o'clock. It is now a quarter to 
two. The wounded man has died, and his companions have 
taken the body, in a piece of cloth which we gave, to bury 
him. Scudamore is very far from well, feverish all over. 
I think we shall not get away from this to-day. I imagine 
we shall be three days in getting to the Shire : if we start 
to-morrow we shall be there on the second instead of the 

I have had a chat this morning with the old mother of 


Chipoka: wlien she came yesterday I gave her a piece of 
cloth, and to-day she brought her acknowledgments in the 
shape of a fowl and three eggs. 

Jan. 3, 1862. Dear . This is the first time I have 

wi-itten the name of this year : may it be to us and to you a 
year of greater grace and blessing than the last, and so may 
we abound more and more until the coming of our Lord and 
Saviour. How curious saying this to you, and probably the 
year will be far gone before you read it ! But you are saying 
the same things, and God hears the prayers of both, and will 
shower down on each the showers of His blessing in answer 
to the distant prayer, just as the rain rises from the distant 
ocean, and falls on the thirsty ground, where He has ap- 
pointed it. I am sitting in a hut on my way from Ma- 
gomero to the Pioneer's anchorage : it is about six o'clock, 
and the light will soon fail me, and the fowl we have just 
bought will soon be ready : so I rc\ust make the best of my 
time to bring you up to date. 

We meant to leave Chipoka's on Tuesday, and make our 
way with all speed to the Euo mouth. Scudamore was look- 
ing so much unwell, that I determined he must go home, and 
Waller go to take care of him, while Burrup and I went on ; 
but in the morning, when we asked for guides and bearers, 
Chipoka refused. He said, "All that country is occupied by 
Manasomba's friends : you will be killed if you go, and then 
the English who are behind (at Magomero) will come and 
blame me and burn my village. If you want to go back, I 
will give you guides and bearers; but forwards, I will not." 
It was vain to argue. He had made up his mind ; and 
much against our will we turned homewards about eleven 
o'clock. Waller and Sciidamore both said strongly, it was 
much better. Scudamore said it was natural he should wish 
to keep us behind him, while he was still treating with Mana- 
somba. Waller said we had had enough of fighting : and 
that going down that way was only provoking more, and 
would make it more difficult for us to assert our character 


as ministers of the Gospel of peace. I said I did not expect 
any more fighting : my party would be too strong to allow 
them to think of touching us. Accordingly, I tried on the 
road to arrange that Waller and Scudamore should go on. 
with the guides and^ * * * 

Jan. 8. I forget where I was, and what place I was 
at. O, I see ; I was an hour or two from Magomero, and 
was describing our return from Chipoka's. I am now at 
Chibisa's, the anchorage of the Pioneer, and hope to get 
down the day after to-morrow, and to find that the Pioneer 
has not been staying long waiting. To make short work 
with the old story, I tried time after time to get down across 
country to the Ruo mouth, but always failed : generally there 
were at least thi'ee obstacles, and so it ended in my going 
on homewards day by day ; actually turning my back on 
the spot I was making for, on the day I had aj^pointed to 
meet Livingstone. I found, you see, that it was impossible 
to get down straight, and was obliged therefore to take a 
longer way round as the shortest in the end, and by coming 
down from home to Chibisa's here, to go down the river 
fx'om this. I gave up the plan of going across from Soche, 
as being a tempting of hostilities lower down the river, 
which was undesirable on every ground. Well, on Thursday, 
January 2, I got to Magomero. Scudamore was very unwell 
from fatigue and exposure. We found them a sick house : 
Procter only on the turn to amend, after fever : Rowley very 
low : Dickinson a good deal pulled down with work. Burrup 
and Waller were both worse than myself; and I had beeu 
sufiering from diarrhoea for three or four weeks. I had 
hoped to get a fresh companion out of the home stock. 
But this was impossible : and I think in any case Burrup 
would have objected to staying at home. So off we started 
next day. 

We have established the custom of having a few prayers 

^ The letter here breaks off abruptly, as though the Bishop had been 
called away by sudden interruption. 



at our Church before starting, and after return of any of 
our party on a journey : so we had prayers for those that 
remained and for those who were going, and we set off. It 
rained heavily, and we had hard work to get the Makololo into 
motion. But it is a good thing to get away, though we only 
made five or six miles that day. From that till this morn- 
ing we have had almost incessant rain, and have slept five 
nights on the road, which I ran through in seventeen hours 
last time. Once we were detained two or three hours by a 
river, in a place where I think I have always stepped across. 
In two others some of us stood in the middle and on the 
banks to help others across. It was a great relief on Monday 
night to find ourselves more than half-way, at Soche : the 
chief was veiy civil, and gave us some ufa (native meal), for 
which we were very thankful. Yesterday we got on better, 
and this morning we got here : but so ill had we calculated 
the distance, that we took a couple of hard eggs with us, 
starting without even coffee, meaning to breakfast here, and 
it was two P.M. before we began that said early meal. But 
we are repaid for all our trouble by finding that it will not 
be diflScult to get boats a little lower down, the chief here 
undertaking to send us there, which augurs well. Accord- 
ingly we are in better sj^irits, and are to start with volun- 
teers from among the Makololo. This is good. Then we 
have seen the sun to-day ; and this is a very beautiful place : 
a village perched on the top of a cliff of i-ed clay over-hanging 
the stream, which is now swollen much, and commanding a 
view of the valley of the Shire, or at least of its lowest level, 
extending four or five miles to the eastern hills. The valley 
itself, in a freer sense, stretches many a mile behind us to 
the west, — fine fertile land, studded with shi-ubs and trees, 
and apparently fit for any cultivation. I suppose, however, 
it is not so healthy as the higher lands. 

The men of this village are old friends, most of them : 
and all looks bright. I have been having many a laugh with 
them already. Thus it is that God gives us bright spots in 


our life at the darkest, — and how often bright tracts stretch- 
ing over much of it ! 

I am all this time stopping to shew my watch to some 
of them, and to explain to another that if we do not agree 
on the price of his meal we need not quarrel ; on which he 
comes back to take what I offered, and I give him a little 
more. But I must stop now. Thank God for this day. 

Jan. 9. It is half-past 8. We have had breakfast; at 
least we are waiting for the tea. Burrup has taken but 
little. I hope he will be up to his work to-day. He will in 
spirit, I am sure. You may think we are in tolerable time j 
but that only shews your ignorance. We ought to have been 
off before this. However, it is no use hoping to go at rail- 
way speed here, or with railway punctuality. The delay 
now is on account of Mobita, whose mansion is at some 
distance, perhaps a mile, and who has not yet turned up. 
I read Burrup this morning the Keble for xxvfch Sunday after 
Trinity. I do so admire the last verses. 

Monday, Jan. 13. Our suspense is at an end. We got 
here, the Euo mouth, on Saturday, to learn that Livingstone, 
by most trying delays, as they must have been to him, had 
passed downwards not many days before ; so that, if we 
had kept our appointment, and been here by the first of 
January, we should have been in time to see him going 
down. This, though sadly trying to him, and running some 
risk of his losing the meeting at the bar, and also involving 
our staying here a good while, two or three weeks px'obably, 
seemed, and seems still, good news to me, inasmuch as we 
have not detained him by arriving ten days after time. 

We had, on the whole, a prosperous journey down. The 
chief at Chibisa's, you know, undertook to send us down to 
a chief an hour or two down the stream, Turuma, where we 
should be likely to get a larger boat. His own he could not 
spare, as it is constantly wanted to cross the river, and for 
communication between the village and the island, on which 
are some of their gardens. Accordingly, on Thursday we 

2e— 2 


set off at 3, and got to Tuiiima's in lialf an hour. It was 
deliciovis, the floating down that broad, green-banked river. 
The uncertainty as to the length of the voyage gave it a 
dreaminess, like some parts of Southey's Thalaha. But like 
Thalaba our difficulties were not at an end. Turuma re- 
fused to see us, returned our present, and declined to hire 
his boat to us, not, as I believe, from ill will, but, as he said 
himself, for fear of Mankokwe, whom (you remember) we 
saw on July 1 with Livingstone \ What was to be done ? 
We thought of trying to persuade our boatmen to take us to 
another village, where we might have better luck; but be- 
fore doing so, I thought it might be possible to borrow the 
boat we were in, (the men having positively refused to go so 
far as the Ruo,) by arranging to borrow Turuma's boat for 
them. They agreed to this, and so did he, a good deal to 
my surprise. The next question was about men. Chibisa's 
would not go on, Turuma was afraid to send his. Just then 
two of the Makololo, Zomba and Siseho, joined us, having 
walked down the bank. Mobita had in the raorning re- 
fused to come, and I gave them all up except Charlie, who 
never hesitated. These three undertook to go down with us. 
So off we started, wondering at the way God was leading us. 
In an hoiir or two we landed at Magunda's, where they 
received us well. The chief, not well enough to see us, sent 
us a goat, before we had sent him anything, which was 
unusually civil. Next morning we were off early. Burrup 
was far from well. About midday we stopped to cook; 
found a village a little back from the stream, where we 
stayed three hours : we carried our cooked food, as we were 
entering the Elephant Marsh, and should not come to an- 
other village before dark. At night we drew to the shore, 
made fast the boat to the grass on the bank, ate some cold 
goat, and prepared for bed. By this time the mosquitoes 
were very troublesome. I lent two pairs of trousers, and 
a blue coatie to the three men, wrapped my own head and 
^ The Bishop refers to a letter not printed in this volume. 


shoulders in my mosquito curtains, and should soon have 
been asleep, when one of the men said, " We are going on." 
It was better, they thought, to work on in moonlight, rather 
than be eaten up by the insects. In less than a minute we 
were off. Sometimes I sat up, watching the guiding of the 
boat in the narrow winding channel, for before dark we had 
left the midstream on the chance of finding a village on the 
margin of the marsh. After half-an-hour or so we found 
ovirselves stranded on the flooded bank, having been sucked 
out of the stream by the overflowing water. As we had 
taken a little water, and might have been upset, two of the 
men were for stopping here. I, who had been delighting in 
this way of turning mosquitoes to good account (by getting 
three or four hours at five or six miles an hour, a problem 
this which has, I believe, baffled all foi'mer travellers in 
mosquito countries,) — I was for going on, saying, "Let us see 
a second time," but gave in to the majority of the men. 

In a few minutes Zomba, the bowman, gave his orders for 
a start, and off we were again in silence. This time we were 
sooner in coming to grief A sudden turn, which our bow- 
man did not see in time, landed us again on a point where 
the stream parted into two; the two men in the stern 
jumped out, up to their middles. I followed immediately; 
Burrup after me. But in vain ; the canoe continued to fill, 
and we began to pull out our things. Unfortunately one 
piece of baggage, containing all Burrup's things, was washed 
out of the stern : all that was saved had to be laid on the 
bank, which consisted of long grass, two or three feet deep 
in water, till we could get the canoe raised and baled out. 
Then the things were put in again, all soaking; guns, 
powder-flasks, bags of sugar and coffee, books, mail-bag, 
watch, (fee; all from below the surface; and we wet up to 
our middles. We had to get into the boat, wringing the 
water from ovir trowser-legs, and then to lie down again, 
worse attacked by mosquitoes than at first. It was about 
ten, as my watch informed me in the morning, not having 


gone after this. I slept the best, I suspect. Burrup said 
he did not mind mosquitoes, and certainly never uttered a 
word. I took Charlie under the corner of my curtain. The 
rest switched themselves from time to time. No one pro- 
posed going on again : indeed, we were thankful our losses 
had been no worse, though it was not till next day we 
remembered that all our medicine was gone, and our spare 
powder ; and all my powder was wet. Before the sun was 
up we were off. Fortunately the night was far from cold, 
or we must have taken harm : as it is, Burrup is none the 
better for it. I think I have escaped any ill consequences. 

In the morning (Saturday, Jan. 11), about 9, I was 
wakened by being told we were at the Ruo mouth. We 
landed on an island where we saw a village, learned that 
the Pioneer had lately passed, (though it is evidently not a 
week ago, it is hopeless to make out the exact day), and I 
cannot learn that Livingstone has left any letter for me. 
I must get a canoe as soon as I can, and go and look for it 
among the neighbouring villages. In the meantime we have 
been led to a very nice village. A benign, oldish chief, 
Chikanzi, with a lai'ge population, occupying, I think, about 
a hundred hixts, willing that we should remain here, warn- 
ing us that the chiefs a little way up the Buo would cut our 
throats if we tried to pay them a visit, which, whether trvie 
or not, at least removes all fear of his joining them, and 
betraying us. I have my hopes, ia my own mind, that our 
being here in this way may be intended to prepare this vil- 
lage for being one of the stations to be worked by owy Mis- 
sion steamer (the University Boat), for which I hope to write 
by this mail. 

So matters stand at present. Burrup is very low, and 
we have no medicine. Quinine, which we ought to be 
taking every day, there is none. But He who brought us 
here can take cai'e of us without human means. If we 
should be down at once, Charlie will take care of v^. The 
texts in Greek which we have learned day by day lately 


have been Rom, ii. " For he is not a Jew, whicli is one out- 
wardly; neither is that circumcision, which is outward in 
the flesh : but he is a Jew, which is one inwardly ; and cir- 
cumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the 
letter; whose praise is not of men, but of God." iii. "But 
now the righteousness ot God without the law is manifested, 
being witnessed by the law and the prophets ; even the 
righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto 
all and upon all them that believe : for there is no differ- 
ence : for all have sinned, and come short of the kingdom 
of God." vi. "For the wages of sin is death ; but the gift 
of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." vii. 
" O wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from 
the body of this death ] I thank God through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. So then with the mind I myself serve the law 
of God ; but with the flesh the law of sin." viii. " I am 
persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor prin- 
cipalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." x. " Whosoever shall call upon 
the name of the Lord shall be saved. How then shall they 
call on Him in whom they have not believed? and how shall 
they believe in Him of whom they have not heard % and 
how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall 
they preach, except they be sent ? as it is written. How 
beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of 
peace, and bring glad tidings of good things." Good bye 
for the present. 

Here the letter terminates abruptly, for reasons 
which the reader will guess only too truly. I may add, 
the letter bears marks of having been immersed in 
water ; some small portions of it have been rendered 
nearly illegible. It is a very precious document ; and 
the concluding words, Good bye for the present, form as 


suitable a parting from liis earthly friends as he him- 
self could have desired. 

The loss of medicines by the upsetting of the canoe 
was a matter of far more serious moment than the 
Bishop has represented it. Looking upon the matter 
coolly, one would feel disposed to say, that there were 
three courses which might have been adopted, and that 
the one actually taken was the only thoroughly bad 
one. The Bishop and Mr Burrup might either have 
gone back to Chibisa's and Magomero, and returned 
with a new supply of quinine, in which case active 
exercise might probably have preserved their health ; 
and even then, judging from the former experience of 
the Pioneer, they could have been again at the ren- 
dezvous, before Dr Livingstone was likely to have 
returned: or they might have made a push to over- 
take the Pioneer, which had only recently passed, and 
which might in all probability have been overtaken : 
or lastly, they might remain where they were, in jDcr- 
fect bodily inaction after long severe bodily exercise, 
with no exciting mental occupation, and with no 
medicine, and consequently under the most favourable 
conditions for the action of African fever. But, un- 
fortunately, the Bishop had hitherto seemed almost 
fever proof, and Mr Burrup had already been able to 
set all rules of African travel at defiance ; as Dr Living- 
stone said, Mr Burrup's wonderful feat, which has been 
already recorded, had destroyed the effect of all his 
cautions ; and so, in defiance of the apparent dictates of 
ordinary prudence, they determined to remain where 
they were. 

No doubt one stronsf argument for remainins: was 


that the Bishop thought he could turn his time to 
good account. He could make friends with the chief 
of the island and his people, and so lay the founda- 
tion for future missionary work; and with this prospect 
before him, the rashness of the attempt would become 
invisible. The result, however, adds another to the 
list of melancholy proofs which have been furnished, of 
the need of not completely forgetting the necessities 
and the weaknesses of flesh and blood : let a man, 
placed in a responsible position, whether as a mission- 
ary or otherwise, first do all that human wisdom and 
prudence can suggest, and then humbly and devoutly 
leave the result in God's hands ; but it is impossible to 
applaud the wisdom, though we may marvel at the 
exalted piety, of trusting for preservation to God's pro- 
vidence, under circumstances in which the laws of the 
natural world prove by experience that safety is not 
to be expected. 

However, the Bishop determined to remain on the 
island. On January 16, he wi'ote as follows in a letter 
to Mr Strong : the date, it will be observed, brings it 
into immediate connection with the letter to his sister 
given above. 


Jan. 16, 1862. I have wi-itten to my sister a full ac- 
count, which you will see, of my journey with Scudamore, 
BuiTup and Waller, to Manga and back, and subsequently 
with Burrup to this place, an island at the confluence of the 
Ruo with the Shire, where we are awaiting the return of 
Livingstone, in the Pioneer, from the sea. We left home on 
December 23. Spent Christmas at Saopa's village, under the 
precipices of the Milanje mountains. Found that Chipoka, 


whose guides led Procter and Sciidamore to the village of Ma- 
nasomba, disclaimed all complicity in the outrage. Accord- 
ingly, with a few of his men, who, together with our own, 
amounted to about fifty, we went on January 4, and finding 
the village of Manasomba deserted, burnt it, and returned to 
Chipoka's. "We went with the avowed object of recovering 
the two remaining captives, one of whom was one of our 
own freed-people at Magomero, and punishing the perpe- 
trators of so treacherous an act as that described above, in 
order that he might desist from such courses, especially in 
the case of Englishmen, and that others might fear. In this 
I feel that we did right. It is true our Lord said to His 
disciples, " They knew not what spirit they were of." But 
in this case we were not revenging ourselves. There was no 
ruler ordained of God (Rom. xiv.) to whom we could refer 
the matter, else we should have been only too glad to do so ; 
but we believed that, being the only power in the place that 
could do it, we were ourselves God's ministers for the pur- 

I would gladly have left it for Livingstone to do in the 
Queen's name, but feared he would say his other duties were 
too pressing, and that he had no time. I should have pre- 
ferred waiting for his approval of my doing it, which I am 
sure he would give; but by that time, with ten tons of 
goods, and probably a party of ladies, on my hands, it would 
have been impossible. As speedy a retribution as possible 
seemed the best ; and in that belief, and with the approval 
of my associates, I acted. We marched peaceably among 
fields and villages belonging to Manasomba's people, and 
spared a village near his own, said to be the residence of his 
wife (equivalent to a second village belonging to himself), 
and were glad to find on our return that this moderation 
was appreciated, and was attributed to a desire not to shut 
out the possibility of a reconciliation with the ofiender. To 
this object Chipoka now devoted his energies, and, to avoid 
risk of failure, refused to help me in any way to make my 


way to the Ruo mouth in a straight line, as I believe I 
might easily have done in two days. Chipoka said we 
should pass through country occupied by Manasomba's 
friends, and that our doing so would frustrate his attempts 
to heal the breach. Besides, if we were killed, the English 
from behind (at Magomero) would come and blame him for 
guiding us into danger. With the greatest reluctance I 
yielded to necessity, and got here in eleven or twelve days, 
instead of two, going over about 230 miles instead of about 
fifty, and being ten days after our appointment with Living- 
stone. I ought to have said that in the attempt to recover 
the captives we utterly failed, but left that as an outstand- 
ing demand which Chipoka promised to make in my name. 

The most painful jjart of the whole was the death of 
one of our bearers, who was wounded by an arrow on 
our way back, and the illness which repeated exposure 
brought back with increased force upon Scudamore. I left 
him, I am soriy to say, on January 3rd, in a high fever. 
There was not one of the party that I left really well (except 
perhaps Adams), though none of the rest were very seriously 
ill. Burrup and 1 had a very wet walk to the anchorage of 
the Pioneer, sleeping five nights on the way, and came down 
here in a canoe with no other mishap than being once upset 
and losing one of our bundles; it contained our spare powder, 
(so that we have only three or four chai'ges dry,) all our me- 
dicines, which we miss as we are both in want of them, and 
all Burrup's bedding, change of clothes, and other private 
property. We had an uncomfortable night (it happened at 
10 P.M. by moonlight), as we were soaked up to the waist 
(nothing whatever indeed was dry but the shirts we had on), 
and we were nearly at the mercy of an unusiial number of 
mosquitoes. Burrup has not been well since. I am myself, 
thank God, in almost perfect health, and only regret, on my 
own account, the loss of the little packet of dnigs, inasmuch 
as I shall probably have a touch of fever soon for want of 
quinine. We learned that Livingstone had gone down only 


a few days before we reached the rendezvous : his delays from 
sandbanks must have been as trying as on our way up. We 
do not expect him back for at least a fortnight (our cloth 
for purchasing will last perhaps three weeks). 

At first sight it might seem that it would have been 
much better, could we have been here in time to see him 
before he went down. We could, it is true, have sent letters 
later by six or seven weeks, as an addition to our mail of 
November 15 ; and we should probably have gone to the 
sea with him, and so received our ladies. We tivo might 
also have answered the letters we hope to receive soon. On 
the other hand, by our stay here, we are making intimate 
friends of the inhabitants of this large village. There are, 
I believe, more than 100 huts, giving, I suppose, about 500 
people. I do not know any Mang-anja village so large, and 
the importance of this friendship may be great, for I expect 
to add to this letter a request for a steamer to ply on this 
lower Shire, to constitute our connection with the civilised 
world. Livingstone warns me not to depend on the Pioneer 
to bring up stores, or occasional additions to our body; for 
it will not always be possible for him to do us this service at 
the time we require it, as he would be only too glad to do. 
There must, then, be a steamer on which we can depend for 
supplies and communication. I think I told you how I. 
shrank from the responsibility of having such a vessel, which 
would have to lie idle for months together, periods injurious 
alike to body and soul. I thought of fevers on board, and, 
far worse, of quarrelling among its crew, and of conduct 
unbecoming our Christian name, and dishonouring to God, 
and undei'mining our mission work among the natives. But 
why should it be idle ] Why not have mission work on this 
river, under the management of a priest, and perhaps a 
deacon, always on board? Why should not there be several, 
aye, from five to ten villages, on the banks, visited regu- 
larly, in which preaching, schooling, marketing, and gene- 
ral civilising influences might go on] The trij) to the sea, 


once or twice in a year, would make little interruption in 
this, wbicli would be the main work of the vessel; and if 
there were this constant passing up and down, at regular or 
irregular intervals, only not too long, there would be much 
greater difficulty than at present in transmitting slaves from 
the east to the west bank. In this way of looking at the 
matter, which has arisen in conversation at Magomero, all 
my objections vanish. There would be healthful occupation 
for the crew, and such employment for their minds as would, 
I hope, give the ship rather a good than a bad influence on 
their characters, while the whole would be under the com- 
mand of a clergyman, who would consider that his parish 
included his fellow-voyagers, as well as the natives on the 
banks. And, in this view, may not our stopping here and 
making friends with this island chief be of importance, 
greater than all that we might have done if we had been 
here a week earlier? 

Soon after writing the above the fever seized upon 
the Bishop, and made rapid progress. He became 
aware of his approaching end, and told his Makololo 
attendants that Jesus was coming to fetch him away. 
About the 20th or 21st of January, his intellectual facul- 
ties gave way, and he lay in his hut in a state of utter 
prostration, almost without uttering a word, or if he did 
speak, speaking incoherently. Sometimes, in going out 
of his hut, he would fall forward on his face, and lie on 
the ground without being able to move. On the 24!th 
he appears to have ruptured a blood-vessel, and was 
henceforth weaker than before. Mr Burrup was almost 
as debilitated as himself, and was of course unable to 
render much assistance. The three Makololo, however, 
were faithful and attentive, and did all they could. So 


matters went on till January 31, when the Bishop 

On the morning of that day, the chief, under the 
pretence that the hut was needed for some other pur- 
pose, insisted upon the Bishop being moved ; Mr Burrup 
represented the impossibility of moving a man in such 
a condition ; but in vain. The fact probably was, that 
the chief was afraid that the death would take place 
in his hut, and that afterwards, according to the native 
superstition, the presence of the departed spirit would 
render it uninhabitable. Fearing lest the chief should 
banish them from the island altogether, Mr Burrup at 
length consented, and the dying Bishop was removed 
to another hut. The change probably hastened the 
end, for in about an hour and a half after arriving in 
the new hut, the Bishop breathed his last. 

It is needless to say that the position of Mr Burrup 
was a very painful one. Himself in a state of great 
exhaustion, he was compelled at once to take steps 
for removing the body from the island : the chief would 
not permit it to remain even till the following day : 
and accordingly, on the same evening, assisted by the 
three faithful Makololo, Mr Burrup conveyed the re- 
mains of Bishop Mackenzie to the main-land in the 
canoe, chose a secluded spot under a large tree, dug 
a grave, and after reading as much of the burial ser- 
vice as he was able in the dim evening light, left the 
dear remains in sure and certain hope of the resurrec- 
tion of the just. 

The reader will wish to know what became of Mr 
Burrup. The day after the Bishop's death, he made 


preparations for returning to Magomcro ; and leaving 
a letter with the chief to be given to Dr Livingstone, 
when he should return in the Pioneer, he started on 
his homeward journey on Sunday, February 2. The 
Makololo wished to leave the canoe and go to Chibisa's 
by land ; but as the canoe had been lent by the people 
of that place, Mr Burrup would not consent. Accord- 
ingly, the party started in the canoe, but at the end 
of three days, when they had got through the Elephant 
Marsh, the navigation became so difficult, that the 
Makololo positively refused to continue with the boat, 
and landed ; Mr Burrup was compelled to follow. On 
February 8, they arrived at Chibisa's : Mr Burrup's 
walking powers were by this time all expended, and 
from Chibisa's to Magomero he was carried. 

It was on February 14 that the missionary party, 
who had begun to grow uneasy concerning the Bishop 
and Mr Burrup, were discussing the propriety of sending 
down to Chibisa's and making inquiries, when one of 
the Makololo suddenly appeared : his sad looks at once 
told them that something was wrong. They asked 
whether the Bishop was coming ; he shook his head, 
looked on the ground, and answered in Mang-anja, 
"Bishop wa fra," — the Bishop is dead. The truth 
could not be doubted : he himself had assisted at the 

Soon after Mr Burrup arrived. The first few days 
it was hoped that he would recover his strength, and 
in all probabihty this hope would have been reaUsed 
had European comforts been at hand ; his appetite was 
good, and he was able to walk ; unfortunately, neither 

4t6 memoir of bishop MACKENZIE. 

brandy, nor wine, nor wheaten bread were to be bad, 
and on February 22 he rapidly sank, and died in the 
evening. On Sunday, February 23, he was buried in 
a quiet retired spot near Magomero. 

The story of the Bishop's decease would hardly be 
complete, if I did not add some account of the party 
of ladies, to meet whom the disastrous journey down 
the Shire had been undertaken. The reader will re- 
member that we left Miss Mackenzie and Mrs Burrup 
in charge of Captain Wilson of H.M.S. Gorgon, at 
Quilimane. They soon fell in with Dr Livingstone and 
the Pioneer, and arrangements were quickly commenced 
for taking the whole party up the country. There was 
a good deal of work to be done before the expedition 
could start ; Dr Livingstone's new steamer, the Lady 
Nyassa, which was on board the Hetty Ellen, had to be 
transshipped to the Pioneer, besides smaller arrange- 
ments. However, on February 10 they entered the 
narrow channel which joins the Kongone mouth with 
the great Zambesi, and the difficulties of navigation 
soon began. On that very afternoon, they grounded on 
a sand-bank ; two days afterwards, something went 
wrong with the machinery ; and the next day all the 
coals were exhausted, and they were compelled to send 
out parties to cut wood. At length. Captain Wilson 
kindly proposed to take Miss Mackenzie and Mrs 
Burrup forward in his gig, and on Monday, Feb. 17, 
they started tipon their journey. It would be beyond 
the scope of this memoir to attempt to narrate the 
details of this remarkable expedition, and I am unable 
to describe, in adequate terms, the chivalrous courtesy 


which the two lone hidies received from Captain Wilson, 
Dr Ramsay, and the crew. Suffice it to say, that the 
party reached in due time the place of rendezvous, at 
the junction of the Ruo and Shire, Miss Mackenzie at 
the time lying in a state of unconsciousness from fever ; 
here the}^ made inquiry concerning the Bishop, but the 
natives denied that they had seen or heard anything of 
him, the reason for their lie no doubt being this, that 
they feared lest they should be called to account for 
the Bishop's death. On March 4, they reached Chi- 
bisa's, where they heard of the sad calamity. From, 
hence Captain Wilson, with Dr Kirk, made an expedition 
to Magomero, to hear all particulars ; on arriving there, 
it was found that not only the Bishop, but Mr Burrup 
also, as the reader already knows, had been taken away. 
There was nothing to be done but to return to Chibisa's 
with the melancholy intelligence, and offer to the two 
sad-hearted women the means of leaving a country in 
which it was now impossible for them to remain. 

They started on the return voyage at live A.M. on 
March 12, and at four P.M. reached the island where 
the Bishop died. Inquiry was made for the letter which 
had been left ; the natives looked one at another, and 
saying, " It is all known," produced the letter. It ran 
thus : 

Mouth of Euo, Island and Village Malo, 
Saturday, Feb. i, 1S62. 

My dear Doctor, 

I deplore to tell you that our good Bishop died on 
this island yesterday about 5 o'clock. We anived here on 
Saturday, January 12. We had been upset in our canoe 
the night before, and the valise in which the medicines were 



with the quinine was lost. We had, therefore, none, with 
the exception of some made from your prescription, which 
had likewise suffered from the wet. He had been suffering 
from diarrhoea for some weeks before, but had got rid of it. 
He took the pills twice, once before he came here. He was 
quite well and strong notwithstanding, and shewed no signs 
of failing strength for ten days after our arrival, but from 
that time he shewed symptoms of wandering in the head, 
and at length mental and physical prostration, which con- 
tinued up to the last. The Chief objected to his being buried 
on the island. We therefore, although sunset, went over 
and buried him as decently as the haste thought necessary 
made possible. The spot is under a large tree, which the 
natives will shew you. In consequence of my arrangements 
I shall not be able to do anything to the grave. 

Captain Wilson had great dijBEiculty in procuring 
a guide to shew him the grave; at last an old man 
consented to go, but on condition that he should go in 
his own canoe, not in the captain's gig. Captain Wilson 
and Dr Kirk found the spot, which had evidently not 
been disturbed ; they made a cross of reeds, and placed 
it over the grave. This act of piety performed, the boat 
continued her sad voyage that same evening. 

On April 2 the ladies were again on board the 
Gorgon; on April 26 they were safely landed at the 
Cape, and were once more hospitably received by the 
good Bishop of Cape Town. 

Reference has already been made to the plan of 
having a steamer in the service of the mission. The 
Bishop conceived the notion of making an appeal for 
such a steamer to the members of the boat-clubs in 
Oxford and Cambridsre. I now sive the letter in which 


the appeal was contained. It is only a fragment, and 
is a rough draft written in pencil ; but it will, if I mis- 
take not, be read with gi'eat interest, partly as being 
one of the last productions of the Bishop's mind, partly 
because it will shew how nobly desirous he was, even 
to the last, of turning every advantage which his posi- 
tion gave him to the account of the great work which 
he had in hand. 


KivER Shire (a "Dranch of the Zambesi), 

January, 1S62. 


I write to you as a member of the University Boat- 
Club, of which I am myself a member, to ask you to give 
attention to the matter which I now lay before you. Those 
were noble contests in which some of us took part, and all 
took interest, on the Isis or the Cam ; but we are older men 
now, and may well turn to higher and nobler aims. There 
is on the river Shire a contest to be maintained with evil, 
both with sin, as the root, and with oppression, cruelty, and 
every other form of the fruits of sin. In order to engage in 
this contest, and to continue the mission already established 
on the high table-land fifty miles from its banks, we must 
have a steamer to ply on the stream, to connect and bring 
under our superintendence the several points along its course, 
where Christian and civilising influences may advantageously 
be applied; and also to keep up our communication with 
the sea, from which we must receive our letters and supplies 
for barter, and other necessaries. The Bishop of Cape Town 
first spoke of the need of such a vessel, and I am fully con- 
vinced it is absolutely required; I have delayed writing for 
one, only till we could see our way through one or two ob- 
jections to the idea as it at first presented itself to me. 

The following is a sketch of what I think would do the 



work, and witliout which it could not be done. A steamer 
80 feet long, 16 feet wide, drawing two and a half feet of 
water, when carrying her own spare gear, without crew or 
stores, and making easily (with wood in her furnaces) a speed 
of eight miles an hour when loaded so as to draw four feet 
of water. A master of the grade of the master of a mer- 
chantman, with boatswain and three seamen, an engineer 
with assistant, one stoker, and a doctor ; the whole to be 
under the direction of one of the clergy of the mission. 
I would make it the duty of this vessel to take a trip down 
the river and back again, once in (say) two months (its head- 
quarters being at Chibisa's, the anchorage of the Pioneer), 
and stay two or three days at each of the five or six villages 
on the bank, which might by degrees be chosen as central 
points for their respective neighboui'hoods. In the course 
of these two or three days, preaching, schooling, and general 
teaching would be the main objects, while the inhabitants 
of the vicinity might be tempted to swell the numbers in 
the villages by the opportunity they would have of getting 
cloth by bartering their goods. The vessel would in this 
way have a supply of fresh goods, and the first attempt 
would be made to establish a trade in cotton and other 
articles of export. To keep up foreign communication, the 
steamer would make a trip once a year or oftener to the 
bar, meeting some sea-going vessel by appointment. She 
would then discharge any cotton, ivory, tkc, which she 
might have received in barter, at the same time that she 
i-eceived the year's supplies for the missions on the river 
and on the highlands. In case of necessity this vessel would, 
I conceive, be able to make a run to Johanna or Natal; 
l)ut I would not contemplate this as any part of her duty. 
One future good result of the plying of such a vessel on this 
river, would be that, in concert with Livingstone's opera- 
tions on the upper Shire and Lake Nyassa, the transfer of 
gangs of slaves from the east to the west side of this line 
would be very much impeded — probably entirely prevented 


— and thus a slave path, apparently quite recently opened, 
would be closed. The cost of such a vessel would probably 
be £5,000, and the annual outlay not less than £1,700. 
Might not these sums be raised by the members of the Uni- 
versity Boat-Clubs, and the boat be called the "University 
Boat T Will you give a liberal share, and do what you can 
to urge others to do the same ? 

The appeal contained in the Bishop's letter lias not 
met with a response so warm as might perhaps have 
been anticipated. Nevertheless, something has been 
done towards carrying out the scheme, though in a 
modified form. Further consideration, and the results 
of Dr Livingstone's experience, led those best fitted to 
judge into the opinion that a boat, manned by a native 
crew, would be far more practicable and more effective 
than a steamer ; in fact, that a steamer could not be 
permanently worked, and that a boat, rowed by natives, 
possibly might. Accordingly, an attempt has been made 
to raise the funds for such a boat service ; it is mani- 
fest, that if the mission is to hold its ground in the 
country, something of the kind must be done. 

And now I come to the last document, left behind 
him by Bishop Mackenzie, which I shall think it 
necessary to preserve in these pages. It is Bishop 
Mackenzie's will ; it has already been printed in a 
paper put forth by the Committee of the Mission, but 
deserves a place in this Memoir of his life, because it 
is so thoroughly like himself, — so manly, so considerate, 
so kind, so Christian. Before leaving Magomero on 
December 23, the Bishop put a paper into Mr Procter's 
bands, directing that it should be looked at in tho 


event of his death. When that sad event did take 
place, the paper was examined, and contained the 

Magomero, December 23, 1861. 

At my death I commend my soul to God, as unto a 
merciful Creator, Saviour, and Sanctifier, until that day. 

As to the affairs of this world, I should wish the 
members of this Mission to act under the temporary 
headship of the Senior Priest, acting with the advice 
of the other Priests, or if there be no Priests, the 
Senior Deacon, or if there be no Deacon, the Senior 
Layman, acting with the advice of the others of their 
own degree respectively, reckoning seniority in the 
following order: — Procter, Scudamore, Burrup, Rowle^^, 
Waller, Dickinson, Gamble, Adams, Clarke, Charles, 
Johnson, Williams, Job. This temporary arrangement 
to hold until the arrival of my successor, or of instruc- 
tions from the Metropolitan. 

My personal property, such as has not been bought 
at the expense of the Mission, I leave to the Mission, 
with the exception of a few books, to be given to my 
family as reminiscences, such as my Consecration Bible, 
my Bible and Prayer Book, my Prayer Book, Greek 
Testament, Christian Year, Bishop Andrews' Devotions, 
Hickes' Devotions. 

After payment of all dues, I give the remainder of 
my property to the Additional Bishopric's Fund, re- 
mitting the loan I made to the Cathedral at Maritz- 
burg, in Natal, and acting with consideration for all my 

This memorandum to be read here, and then sent 


to my brother, John Mackenzie, Esq., 11 Abercromby 

Place, Edinburgh. 

C. F. Mackenzie. 

„,., (H. C. Scudamore, 

Witnesses \^ „^ „ 

[H. Waller. 

It is perhaps a little remarkable that the execution 
of this will did in reality precede by little more than 
a month the event, in anticipation of which it w^as 
prepared. To a looker-on the Bishop's life would have 
appeared to be in no greater peril at the time of start- 
ing for Manasomba's, than on several previous occasions ; 
and there is, I think, no trace to be found in any of 
his letters of his having taken a less cheerful prospect 
of the future than formerly. The reader may possibly 
be disposed to think that the faithful servant had re- 
ceived some slight shadowy hint, which he could hardly 
explain or express, that the time of his departure was 
at hand. Anyhow, it is beautiful to see how, in the 
prospect of an event, which was always more or less 
probable, the good Bishop thought chiefly of his flock, 
and took care that, so far as he could ensure the result, 
the peace and harmony which had reigned in Magomero 
during his own lifetime should not be endangered by 
his departure. 

What the feeling of loss and desolation would be 
at Magomero, when the news of the Bishop's death 
became known, possibly the reader may imagine ; any 
one who knew Mackenzie as I knew him, will quite 
understand that the party would grieve over something 
more acutely painful even than the loss of their head ; 


every one would feel tlia,t he had lost a brother. I have 
avoided as much as possible in this Memoir mere com- 
mendation of him who is the subject of it, but I think 
that I may, without any breach of good taste, introduce 
in this place a passage from a letter written by Mr 
Procter to Miss Mackenzie, in which he speaks of his 
own feeling concerning the loss, and of the impression 
made upon his mind by Bishop Mackenzie's character. 

Speaking of the troublous state of the country, 
subsequent to the Bishop's death, and the need of trust 
in God's protection, Mr Procter says, "Such thoughts 
as these never fail to remind me of him whom you and 
we have lost, our friend and Bishop, who was of all I 
have ever known the most calm and gentle, and whoso 
spirit failed not to make itself felt on all around him. 
! Miss Mackenzie, great as is the brother that you 
have lost, the father and friend that we have lost, and 
the careful shepherd that the poor wandering heathen 
have lost, I can never think of that calm quiet man 
in every sense of the word, that kindly heart which was 
ever ready with its sympathy and love, that lofty mind 
that soared so far from earth, and yet seemed not to 
soar at all, without feeling that the Christian world 
has lost more than all, — a benefactor whose influence 
extended far wherever he went, and with whom no 
one could converse even for a little time without feel- 
ing himself a better, and very often a mser man. I 
cannot look upon him as a hero, as one standing out 
from and above all others, but as one moving amongst 
them, assuming nothing high or original, but a true 
and genial friend of the world, — in the sense of all men 


living in one common brotherhood. He has left us 
too soon as we may be inclined to feel, but not before 
his Father saw fit to summon him to the house of 
the angels and the blessed, whom he loved so well. 
And it seems as if a goodly string had been struck 
while he lived and spoke amongst us, and that, 
though broken and silent now, a sweet echo still comes 
as from the everlasting hills, ' Glory to God in the 
highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men !' 
I, as one only, loved your brother, and knew not how 
I loved him until he was gone." 

Nor can I resist the temptation of adding here a 
few lines from one who had every opportvmity of form- 
ing a judgment concerning Bishop Mackenzie — I mean 
Dr Livingstone. The Bishop's admiration for Dr Living- 
stone has been seen several times in this volume ; it is 
a pleasure to be able to record that the admiration was 
mutual. The paragraph which follows is taken from a 
private letter written to General Hay. 

"I regret exceedingly," writes Dr Livingstone, "having 
to report the death of your kinsman. Bishop Mackenzie, 
on the 31st of January last. He came down to meet his 
sister in a small canoe, which was unfortunately upset 
in the Shire, and bedding, clothing, and medicines lost. 
He arrived at the place of meeting twelve days after the 
date of the appointment, took fever, and without medi- 
cine or any proper treatment succumbed on the 31st, 
the very day that H. M. S. Gorgon appeared off the mouth 
of the Zambesi, with his sister on board. We had agreed 
to meet on New Year's Day, at the mouth of a feeder 
of the Shire, called the Ruo, but were ourselves so 


detained by a sudden fall of the river above that point, 
that we passed it on that same day on our way down. 
He came, as I have said, twelve days afterwards, and, 
unlike himself, remained there, instead of pushing on 
after us. It is a sad blow to us here, and his loss will 
be deeply deplored by all who knew him. He was 
utterly regardless of comfort in his work ; he never 
spared himself; and we now grieve that he did not 
husband his strength, and avoid exposure. The low- 
lands are deadly, but he was so strong that he could not 
believe it. He used jokingly to say that our pills were 
worse than the fever. Mr Burrup, the next in strength, 
perished also about a fortnight after the Bishop ; he 
left the Euo ill of dysentery, aad a few days after 
reaching the mission in the highlands died." 

The fact to which reference is made in the preceding 
letter, namely that the strongest man in the mission 
died first, and the next in strength (in Dr Livingstone's 
judgment) second, is worthy of notice. It seems to give 
a warning to those who undertake missionary work, 
as to the absolute necessity, for the sake of those great 
interests which they have most at heart, of taking care 
of their own lives and of running no unnecessary risks. 
It is curious, but I believe cannot be accounted for by 
reference to any imprudence of conduct, that the next 
loss which the missionary party sustained was that of 
Mr Scudamore, who appears to have been pre-eminent 
in strength and activity. It would carry me out of my 
proper province if I should undertake to give an ac- 
count of this devoted and good man : he was admirably 
fitted for his work, cheerful, unselfish, well-judging, and 


appears to have been specially dear to Bishop Mackenzie, 
and in many respects not unlike him. I could not 
mention Mr Scudamore's name in this place, without 
alluding to the fact of his subsequent death, and paying 
a slight passing tribute to his memory ; but my chief 
reason for referring: to him is that I wish to introduce 
a portion of a letter written by him som.e months after 
Bishop Mackenzie's death, in which he describes in a 
very interesting manner a visit made by himself to the 
Bishop's grave. 

"After passing through the Elephant Marsh," so 
runs the letter, " two days in length, the Ruo enters 
the Shire, running from its source in the Milanje. As 
it enters the Shire it breaks into two streams, which 
form with the Shire what is called here a Malo. The 
island or Malo^ is where the Bishop died. We did not 
stop in going down, but on our way back we spent a 
Sunday on the bank, opposite the island, and deter- 
mined, if possible, to see the Bishop's grave. This was 
not easy ; for the people are very superstitious, and 
always denied knowing anything about it. After try- 
ing several chance persons in a quiet way, we deter- 
mined to go and see the chief, and ask him at once. 
It seemed almost hopeless, but at last by bribing and 
talking we managed it. The chief said all the men 
who knew where he was, who had buried him, had gone 
over the mountain. Then I asked him if he knew ; he 
said he did, and I got him to point in the direction. At 
length he said it was on the opposite side of the river. 

^ I am informed that this is a mistake, and that Malo is the name of 
that particular island: but I do not wish to alter Mr Scudamore's letter. 


Then a man undertook to shew me from the water's 
edge the place on the opposite bank ; and finally, by 
the promise of a fathom and a half of cloth, to take us 
there. We took him into the canoe, but he was in a 
great state of excitement, and worked away to get the 
job over as quickly as possible. Presently he began to 
lap the water with his hand in a very hurried manner, 
which made Mr Stewart, who was with me, think that 
he would break down. We kept talking and laughing 
with him, in order to draw off his attention till we came 
to the place. It was very wild, desolate-looking, but 
quiet, and at a little distance seemed better fitted for 
his grave than any we could choose. There were several 
crocodiles lying under the bank, quite out of the water, 
and fast asleep. 

"When we landed the guide took a paddle, and 
told us to take our guns because of wild beasts. We 
made our way to the grave, not more than fifty yards 
off. The grass and reeds were so tall and so dry, that 
they drooped and met over our heads, and sometimes 
we had to stop and crawl through the tangle which we 
could not pass in any other way. Every now and then 
we came to a dry gully, where the guide would rattle 
about with the paddle to frighten away the alligators. 
At the end of one of these tunnels of reeds the guide 
stepped on one side and said, ' There is the grave.' We 
could perceive nothing ; but going a little further I saw 
something like a pole hidden in the grass ; pushing the 
tangle aside I discovered it to be the cross put up by 
the sailors of the Gorgon. 

" When we came away, and had emerged from the 


long grass, Mr Stewart took a sketcli of the place. The 
bank rises high from the river ; two trees stand some 
little distance apart about two thirds of the way up, 
one I think an acacia, the other I don't know ; the 
ground seems rather level at their feet. There is the 
grave. It will never be disturbed by the natives ; they 
are too much afraid of the place ; it is quite out of 
their haunts, and is never visited but by lions and 

The Bishop's resting-place has since been visited by 
Dr Livingstone, as stated in the letter printed on page 
362. On this occasion Dr Livingstone erected a more 
permanent cross over the grave, and a sketch was made 
by one of the party, from which has been copied the 
engraving, which will form the conclusion — I think, a 
very appropriate conclusion — of this volume. Is it too 
much to hope that a church may one day be built upon 
the spot, and that the inhabitants of this region of 
Africa may point to it as the place in which the Cross of 
Christ was first effectually planted in their dark land ? 

I must not speculate upon the future of the Mission 
in founding wdiich Bishop Mackenzie sacrificed his life\ 
Troubles came thickly upon it after his departure ; war 
and famine desolated the country, sickness afflicted their 
own party, while the difficulty of obtaining supplies was 
a constant source of anxiety. The Mission Station was 

^ I may however mention that on the news of Bishop Mackenzie's 
death reaching the Cape, Bishop Grey at once started for England, and 
that before he left this country a successor was found for the deceased 
Bishop in the Rev. W. G. Tozer. While these sheets are passing through 
the press, letters are anxiously expected from Bishop Tozer, which may 
explain his views concerning the future prospects of the Mission. 


moved, as already mentioned incidentally, to Chibisa's ; 
and there we must leave it, holding its ground nobly 
against unforeseen difficulties, and waiting for the ar- 
rival of the new Bishop from England. Whatever the 
future of the Mission may be, certainly it will have the 
advantage of having been led to the scene of its work, 
and watched over during its infancy, by one of the most 
noble and simple-hearted servants of Christ, who ever 
gave up his home, and his comforts, and his life, for the 
sake of that which was to him infinitely more precious 
than all. 

Nor is it possible to believe that in any case can the 
life and death of Bishop Mackenzie have been in vain. 
It is not Central Africa only, but the whole world, that 
has an interest in such men. The immediate work to 
which they gave themselves may or may not appear to 
flourish ; but the fruit of their example is certain. God 
will not permit it to perish. And so whatever may be 
the -results of his labours to that afflicted country, for 
the evangelization of which he gave himself up so 
freely and so completely, I am convinced that hereafter 
Bishop Mackenzie will be to many, — more than he 
himself in his humility could have believed, — a witness 
for Christ and for Christian truth. Many who feel no 
call to the missionary life themselves will yet see in the 
missionary life of Bishop Mackenzie a pattern of that 
self-sacrifice and love to which all Christians are called, 
and perhaps some may be tempted to follow him even 
as he followed Christ. 


Upon a review of what has been laid before the reader 
in the preceding pages, I have felt in doubt whether I 
should here close the memoir of Bishop Mackenzie's 
life, or whether I should add another chapter in which 
an attempt might be made to give a condensed and 
comprehensive view of that which has already been 
exhibited in detail, and to form something hke an 
estimate of the Bishop's mind and character. 

On the whole I have determined to add the chapter. 
It shall be very short, and I shall endeavour, as in the 
former part of the volume, so in this its conclusion, to 
abstain from the flattery of friendship, and from those 
exaggerations into which the biographers of good men 
are tempted to fall. 

Be it observed in the first place, that the intellectual 
side of Bishop Mackenzie's character can, by the neces- 
sity of the case, be exhibited very imperfectly, and that 
it is in fact exhibited very unfairly and inadequately, 
in this volume. His intellectvial superiority was chiefly 
confined to the domain of mathematical reasoning, and 
in this department he was undoubtedly very powerful ; 


but a missionary to the Kafirs of Natal, or to the Mang- 
anja of the river Shire, has small opportunity for ex- 
hibiting this mathematical pre-eminence ; and therefore 
the distinguishing power of Bishop Mackenzie's mind 
never found any sufficient field of operation. The 
reader should bear this in mind while he peruses the 
memoir of the Bishop's life ; and he should also bear in 
mind that the opportunity of indulging his mathe- 
matical taste, of indulging, in fact, the strongest in- 
tellectual passion that he possessed, was deliberately 
and knowingly sacrificed for the sake of Clirist. If in 
this volume Bishop Mackenzie does not appear in all 
the strength of intellect that belonged to him, it is be- 
cause he consented to put aside his strength and to 
l^ecome weak for the sake of his weak brethren. 

But it was never as a man of high intellect that 
Mackenzie was specially valued by his friends. "We all 
knew his powers, and appreciated them. His intellect 
was in his own peculiar sphere comprehensive, pene- 
trating, manly. This last epithet expresses correctly, 
in my judgment, though some persons may think it 
strangely applied, the intellectual character of his mind. 
Mathematicians have their styles, and one differs much 
from another. When I examined Mackenzie for the 
Smith's Prize, as related in this volume, the thing which 
struck me was the straightforward manner in which he 
grappled with the problems he endeavoured to solve: 
his manner was not neat, and did his matter injustice : 
in one or two cases I was disposed to imagine at first 
sight that he had quite mistaken the problem, but I 
always found that however he might have failed to 


arrive at the result, he had always seized the principle, 
and with a consciousness of right on his side had worked 
vigourously and manfully, though perhaps not always 
successfully. But, as I have said, it was not emphati- 
cally as a clever man, or a man of intellect, that Mac- 
kenzie was chiefly estimated by his friends ; if his 
powers had been tenfold what they were, they would 
never have given him that peculiar hold upon the hearts 
of those who knew him, which as a matter of fact he 
possessed. His special and peculiar attribute was that 
of loveableness. Those, who knew him, more than 
liked him: they felt themselves drawn towards him by 
strong bonds of affectionate and brotherly feeling. In 
saying this I am not speaking from a limited experi- 
ence : I am convinced that my judgment would be sup- 
ported by all his contemporaries. 

If it be asked upon what features of his character 
was based this facility of being loved, I may refer to 
the pages of this volume, and say that they tell their 
tale but badly if they do not supply an answer to the 
question. But more particularly I may remark, that 
utter unselfishness and thoughtful kindness in small 
things and imperturbable good temper were perhaps 
the features of character which chiefly made it difficult 
or impossible to know Mackenzie without loving him. 

Then, too, he was thoroughly humble ; he never put 
himself forward, and even in giving up his home for 
foreign service, apologized as it were for his presump- 
tion by saying, that nobody else would go and there- 
fore he would. 

This humility was associated with, or rather was 



identical with, a simplicity of demeanour, which was 
more remarkable in Mackenzie than in any man I ever 
knew. On one occasion, before his last voyage to 
Africa, he was receiving some hints from an old African 
traveller, I think Mr Galton. Speaking of some astro- 
nomical observations, Mr Galton said, " They will only 
require a little Algebra and Trigonometry ; and I 
suppose you can manage that ?" *' yes," repUed 
Mackenzie, " I dare say I can," but with such perfect 
simplicity, that it would have been impossible for Mr 
Galton to detect the fact that he was talking to an 
accomplished mathematician. If the reader should say 
— which after perusing this memoir I am sure he will 
not — that this was pride aping humility, I can only 
record my conviction, founded on an intimate know- 
ledge of Mackenzie's character, that it was nothing of 
the kind. 

Being humble in his disposition it would be expect- 
ed that Mackenzie would take patiently any reproof or 
advice given to him ; but I think it right to add, that 
his humility did not prevent him from gently reproving 
others, when he thought himself called upon as a true 
friend to do so. Nothing is more difficult than to tell 
a friend of a fault, and this Mackenzie could do, so 
simply, so good-naturedly, so unaffectedly, as to ensure 
the rebuke being taken in good part, and to give it a 
chance of being useful. 

From the very first Mackenzie regarded himself, 
as we have seen, in the light of a candidate for the 
sacred office of the ministry. To this he made all 
other purposes subservient, and if he did not receive 


so definite a training as might have been wished, it 
was the current in which he found himself that car- 
ried him away, and he himself expressed his regret 
that his clerical education had not been more com- 
plete. As a parish priest in England, however, I 
should doubt whether he left much to be desired in 
his qualifications for the office : nothing could exceed 
the love and reverence felt for him by the people of 
Haslingfield, and had his lot been cast permanently 
in an English parish, I think that he would have been 
a country jJarson after George Herbert's own heart. 

At the same time I think that a country parish, 
during his younger days at least, was not the most 
useful sphere for his exertions. He would have made 
a good parish priest, but a college priest better still. 
He was singularly fitted to influence young men of 
ability, and notwithstanding his own feeling of dis- 
appointment, I am sure that his actual influence in 
Cambridge was most strong and valuable. 

But it pleased God that neither English parish 
nor English college should have the principal portion 
of Mackenzie's life and labour. He gave himself up 
to foreign work, and the point to which I would wish 
to direct the mind of the reader of this Memoir, is 
not so much the sacrifice which Mackenzie made, as 
the spirit in which he made it. " Others will not go, 
so I will." "Christ's servants should consider them- 
selves as labourers in the same field, and be ready to 
go to any part where there is work to be done." These 
were the principles upon which he went out, and if, 
like Henry Martyn, he was not pennitted to labour 


long or with any very conspicuous results, still, like 
Henry Martyn, he has set an example of missionary 
spirit which cannot very easily, and by God's grace 
will not, be barren of fruit. If Mackenzie had left 
nothing behind him, except the letter numbered XIX., 
and printed at page 65 of this volume, I should hold 
that he had bequeathed a most precious legacy to the 

With regard to Mackenzie's conduct as a missionary, 
and specially as a missionary Bishop, in which capa- 
city he was for the first time his own master, I think 
that we are not yet in a condition to form a thoroughly 
satisfactory judgment. So far as regards inspiring love 
and confidence into the hearts of his associates, and 
governing as an elder brother should govern, it is clear 
that he was thoroughly successful ; so far as his general 
principles of establishing the Mission are concerned, 
we shall perhaps be able to form a better estimate 
at a later period of the history of the Mission. I 
shall be very glad if the reader of this Memoir should 
come to the conclusion, that Bishop Mackenzie at- 
tempted to carry out the great purposes committed 
to him in the wisest and best and most manly and 
practical way possible under the circumstances in which 
he was placed. But even if he should come to a dif- 
ferent conclusion, he will not be prevented from ad- 
miring the spirit and zeal with which the Bishop 
laboured on behalf of those afflicted people, to whom 
he came to bring the glad news of salvation and 

The point upon which of course hostile criticism 


is likely to fix itself, is the troubles with the Ajawa 
tribes. I have already gone pretty fully into this 
matter, and have no desire to repeat what I have said ; 
I would only add, that I cannot regard the Bishop's 
conduct as a mistake for which to apologize, and I 
trust that nothing which I have written will be re- 
garded in this light. It was a conduct which he knew 
would be criticized, and which, having counted the cost, 
he determined to adopt. It was a conduct which all 
his associates approved. It was a conduct, which, after 
mature deliberation, and after forming a different opi- 
nion in the first instance, Dr Livingstone declared to be 

There are two occasions on which I have ventured 
in this Memoir to say that the Bishop appeared to 
me to have acted with bad judgment. The first was 
with regard to the Church Council at Maritzburg, the 
second was his determination to stay on the island at 
the mouth of the Ruo without medicines. I bring 
these two together, and mention them here, because, 
different as the nature of the two errors was, (if errors 
they are adjudged to be,) yet the source was the same, 
and that a noble one : in each case it was the love of 
the native races, to whom he regarded himself as 
specially sent, that rightly or wrongly moved him to 
act as he did. Thus I apologize for Mackenzie's faults : 
I leave the reader to form his own estimate of his 

One other subject I wish briefly to touch upon 
before I lay down my pen. I have said nothing in 
this volume concerning a point which in these days 


suggests itself very prominently to many minds, namely, 
the school of religious opinion to which Bishop Mackenzie 
belonged. Was he High Church, or was he Low Church, 
or what was his school ? I shall be very glad, if, after 
perusing this volume, the reader should declare himseK 
unable thoroughly to answer the question. To say the 
truth, Bishop Mackenzie could not be identified with any 
party : his doctrinal views were in loyal and affectionate 
conformity "with the Book of Common Prayer, but I do 
not remember ever to have heard him discuss with 
earnestness any of the controversial questions of the 
day. The view of religion which commended itself to 
his mind, was the practical application of the Gospel 
of our Lord Jesus Christ to the wants of men ; and the 
best method of doing this was, in his opinion, a simple 
and faithful adherence to the principles and rules of 
the Prayer-book. I never met with a more sincere 
Churchman, or with one who had less of the spirit of 
party. I never met with a man whose reUgious system 
seemed to lie more completely within the four corners 
of the Book of Common Prayer. For religious specu- 
lation he had little taste, for religious eccentricities he 
had an utter abhorrence ; but if there was any Chris- 
tian deed to be done, any work of mercy to be per- 
formed, either for the bodies or the souls of men, then 
Mackenzie's whole heart was engaged: to go about 
doing good was the only employment, which he 
thoroughly and unreservedly loved. 

And he did go about, like his Master, doing good ; 
and he grew in grace, and in the knowledge of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, so long as life was given him. Now 

Stan^r-d's L^oo^ap^'^ Sstat' londorv 

r.\R-|' OF UIK I- 





r-^ I T 

S» c^_ *> 

\l*5^^, ^ 

Cambndv Ilmihbm Ik-ll.S Co., Lmdm IkU t- DaUfy 

he rests from his labours, in his quiet grave by the 
river Shire, under the symbol of that Gospel of salva- 
tion which he came to preach to his poor degraded 
brethren. His labours will not be in vain; and the 
Cross planted upon his grave may be the emblem and 
pledge to Central Africa of a great work of evangeliza- 
tion, which has been nobly commenced, and which it 
is to be hoped that the charity and the zeal of the 
Church of England will endeavour faithfully and vi- 
gorously to carry on. 

Dr Livingstone planting the Cross on Bishop Mackenzie's Grave. 
(From a sketch made on the spot.) 

THE E^D.J't^ 

CamBntJge : 

pnrNTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A.